Chapter 2 - The Rabbit With The Torn Ear)
Sophie had owned the stuffed rabbit since she was two years old.
Its name was Oliver.
Nobody remembered why.
The rabbit had once been white, but years of hugs, juice spills, trips to the park, and one accidental journey through a washing machine had turned the fabric a permanent soft gray.
Its left ear had been repaired three times.
The final repair had been done by Isabel Santillan.
Sophie remembered that.
Not clearly.
At six years old, memories of her mother existed like pieces of colored glass.
A song.
Perfume.
Warm hands washing shampoo from her hair.
A red coat.
A voice saying, "Brave doesn't mean you're not scared."
The rabbit was different.
Oliver was real.
Oliver could be held.
And hidden inside the torn seam beneath Oliver's left ear was something Vanessa did not know existed.
A tiny memory card.
Regina had found it months earlier in Alexander's office.
The girls had not understood exactly what it did.
They only knew that their father used small black cards to store photographs from cameras.
One afternoon, after Vanessa had screamed at Camila for spilling milk and threatened to tell Alexander the girls were becoming impossible, Regina had whispered that they needed proof.
Proof was a word they had learned from television.
They had no camera.
But Sophie had an old digital voice recorder that Isabel had once used to record bedtime stories.
The recorder accepted the memory card.
So the four girls began recording.
At first they treated it like a secret mission.
They whispered into it beneath blankets.
"December second. Vanessa said we can't call Daddy because he's working."
"December fourth. Vanessa threw Regina's cereal away because she asked for more."
"December sixth. Vanessa said Daddy will send us to school far away if we make trouble."
Then the recordings changed.
They became shorter.
Quieter.
More serious.
One recording contained twenty seconds of Camila crying.
Another captured Vanessa telling Valerie that rich men eventually choose their wives over difficult children.
The girls did not understand why that sentence mattered.
But Valerie remembered every word.
Now Vanessa stood in the bedroom doorway staring at Sophie's rabbit.
"Give me that."
Sophie backed away.
"No."
Vanessa's eyebrows lifted.
"What did you say?"
Valerie stepped between them.
"Mommy gave it to her."
Vanessa hated when the girls referred to Isabel as Mommy.
Alexander had never asked them to call Vanessa anything except Vanessa.
That alone offended her more than she admitted.
"Your mother is dead," she said.
Camila woke immediately.
Regina sat up.
Valerie's face changed.
Even at six, she had inherited Alexander's ability to become quiet when angry.
Vanessa extended her hand.
"Rabbit."
Sophie shook her head.
Vanessa took one step forward.
Then someone called from downstairs.
"Vanessa?"
Cynthia.
Vanessa turned toward the hallway.
Sophie buried the rabbit beneath the blanket.
Cynthia called again.
"The caterer needs you."
Vanessa looked back at the girls.
"We are not finished."
She shut the door.
The key turned.
Sophie waited until Vanessa's heels faded down the hallway.
Then she pulled Oliver from beneath the blanket.
"She knows."
Regina crawled closer.
"Not yet."
"She almost took him."
Valerie looked toward the window.
Outside, snow covered the gardens.
Their father had designed those gardens with Isabel.
In spring, hundreds of white roses bloomed beside the stone paths.
Valerie remembered running through them.
Everything about the house had once felt safe.
Now every locked door seemed to belong to Vanessa.
"We need to get it to Daddy," Valerie whispered.
"How?"
Nobody answered.
Then Camila remembered something.
"Mr. Henry."
Henry Wallace had been the Santillan family's driver for eleven years.
He was sixty-three, spoke quietly, and always carried peppermint candies in the glove compartment.
Vanessa disliked him because he had worked for Isabel.
Two weeks earlier, she had moved him to weekend duty.
But Christmas Eve was on a Thursday.
"Mr. Henry comes Thursday," Camila said.
Valerie shook her head.
"Christmas Eve is next Thursday."
"We wait."
Sophie hugged the rabbit.
"What if Vanessa finds it before then?"
Regina looked around the room.
"The attic."
They were forbidden to enter the attic.
That made it perfect.
Later that night, after Vanessa unlocked their bedroom to allow them to use the bathroom, Regina deliberately spilled water in the hallway.
Vanessa shouted.
While Vanessa went to get towels, Sophie slipped past the linen closet.
She climbed the narrow staircase leading upward.
Every step creaked.
At the top, she pushed open the attic door.
Dust floated in the darkness.
Old furniture stood beneath white sheets.
Boxes were stacked beside the wall.
Sophie was terrified.
She nearly turned back.
Then she remembered her mother's voice.
Brave doesn't mean you're not scared.
She crossed the attic.
Behind an old wooden trunk, she found a small gap between the floorboards.
She pulled the memory card from the rabbit and pushed it into the gap.
Then she ran downstairs.
Vanessa was waiting.
Sophie stopped.
Vanessa held the rabbit.
One torn ear hung between her fingers.
"I knew it."
Sophie stared.
Vanessa ripped open the seam.
Cotton stuffing fell onto the floor.
She searched inside.
Nothing.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then Vanessa looked at Sophie.
"Where is it?"
Sophie swallowed.
"Where is what?"
Vanessa slapped the rabbit against the wall.
"What were you hiding?"
Sophie looked at the torn toy.
Something changed inside her.
Fear remained.
But underneath it was anger.
"My mommy fixed that."
Vanessa laughed.
"Your mommy isn't coming back."
Sophie stared at her.
"No."
Vanessa stepped closer.
Sophie whispered,
"But Daddy is."
That sentence stayed with Vanessa.
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The next morning, she called Alexander's assistant and asked a question she had never asked before.
"What time exactly does his plane land on Christmas Eve?"
