part 2
PART 2
Andrew looked down at Valerie’s hands and saw the tiny reddish stain on the cuff of her white uniform.
It was not paint.
It was not juice.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“How long?”
Valerie’s lips trembled, but no sound came out.
Sophia stepped forward.
“Don’t frighten her more than she already is.”
Andrew turned so sharply she stopped moving.
“I asked my daughter.”
Valerie finally lifted her eyes, and the maturity he had mistaken for obedience shattered in front of him.
“Since after Christmas,” she whispered.
Andrew felt the room tilt.
For months, he had praised her perfect grades, her spotless room, her quiet manners, never realizing silence had become her survival.
Sophia folded her arms.
“She needed discipline.
Her mother spoiled her.”
At the word mother, Valerie flinched.
Andrew noticed.
Then he noticed something else.
On Valerie’s desk sat a stack of school certificates, all signed by the same teacher, but the handwriting looked wrong.
He picked one up.
The ink was fresh.
The date was last week, yet the school seal was slightly crooked.
“Sophia,” he said slowly, “where are Valerie’s real report cards?”
Sophia’s face hardened.
Valerie whispered, “She said Daddy only loves winners.”
Andrew knelt in front of her, his anger turning cold and focused.
“I love you when you win.
I love you when you fail.
I love you when you say nothing at all.”
Valerie broke then, collapsing into his arms.
Behind them, Sophia reached toward the drawer beside the bed.
Andrew caught the movement in the mirror.
“Step away,” he said.
But Sophia smiled.
“You’re too late.”
The drawer was open now.
Inside were adoption papers, guardianship forms, and a folded medical report with Valerie’s name printed across the top.
Andrew snatched it up.
His blood went cold as he read the first line.
Valerie was not listed as his biological daughter.
Sophia’s voice became soft, almost pleased.
“Your first wife lied to you.”
Andrew stared at Valerie, then at the report.
Before he could speak, his phone buzzed.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
May you like
Do not trust the test.
Look inside your late wife’s music box.
