Chapter 2 - Cold Water & Whispers
The drive back to our suburban townhouse was a suffocating blur of red taillights and windshield wipers scraping against sleet. Camila had finally cried herself to sleep in her rear-facing car seat, her little face blotchy and flushed, tiny hands tucked inside her sleeves.
I kept my hand pressed against her knee the entire forty-minute drive, my own dress cold and stiff against my skin, smelling sourly of poultry broth.
Mateo drove with two hands welded to ten and two on the steering wheel. The veins in his forearms bulged against his white dress shirt. Every few seconds, his eyes darted from the road to the rearview mirror, checking on Camila, then sliding toward me with an expression that looked far more like sheer guilt than outrage.
“We’re taking her straight to urgent care,” Mateo said, his voice strained.
“The soup wasn't boiling hot enough to blister, thank God,” I murmured, leaning over to inspect Camila’s neck under the car’s dome light. “It’s pink, but the skin isn't peeling. She was terrified more than burned. But she needs a bath immediately.”
“I’ll kill her,” Mateo muttered under his breath, his knuckles whitening. “I swear to God, Sofía, I will never let Vanessa step foot near our house again.”
“Your father didn't even blink, Mateo,” I said, turning to look at his profile. The streetlights cast sharp shadows across his angular cheekbones. “He watched his daughter assault his granddaughter and didn't even stand up. And your mother... what was she trying to tell me before we left?”
Mateo’s jaw locked. His gaze stayed fixed on the snowy asphalt ahead. “My mother lives in a fantasy world where she can smooth over Vanessa’s psychopathy with excuses. Don’t listen to her. Vanessa has always been jealous, Sofía. Ever since we announced the pregnancy, she’s been spiraling.”
“Jealousy doesn't make someone weaponize hot food against a six-month-old baby!” I snapped, my adrenaline finally giving way to bone-deep fury. “There is something sick going on in that house. Elena looked terrified. Not of Vanessa—she looked terrified of *me* finding something out.”
Mateo didn't answer. He turned the car into our driveway, killed the engine, and stepped out into the freezing night before I could press him further.
Inside our warm, quiet living room, the nightmare followed us like a foul stench. While Mateo ran the bath upstairs, I stripped off Camila’s soiled onesie, tossing it straight into the garbage bin. Under the warm water, Camila relaxed against my chest, her heavy eyelids drooping as the lavender baby wash washed away the greasy broth residue.
Once she was fed and asleep in her crib, monitored by the glowing screen on my nightstand, I walked down to the laundry room to deal with our clothes.
Mateo’s heavy wool overcoat was draped over the bannister. As I picked it up to hang it in the coat closet, a stiff, folded paper rustled inside the inner breast pocket. It wasn't the usual texture of a receipt or parking pass.
I hesitated. Mateo was in the shower upstairs; the pipes were humming through the walls.
I reached inside and drew out the tri-folded sheet.
It was printed on heavy legal stationery, bearing the logo of *Vance & Calloway LLP*, the private law firm that handled the Sterling family estate. At the top, stamped in red ink, were the words: **AMENDMENT TO TESTAMENTARY DISPOSITION: CLAUSE 4B (BIOLOGICAL HEIR REQUIREMENT).**
My breath hitched. The document was dated three weeks ago.
*“...in the event that Mateo Sterling does not present certified, non-disputed DNA confirmation of direct biological lineage regarding any alleged heir born during the calendar year, all remaining rights to the East Coast logistics holdings shall revert unconditionally to Vanessa Sterling...”*
Beneath the legalese was a handwritten note scrawled in Elena’s distinctive, elegant cursive:
*Mateo—Vanessa found the draft. She knows what Ricardo is planning to do on New Year’s. Keep the baby away from her until the lab confirms.*
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The paper trembled in my hand.
Why would Ricardo require a DNA test for Camila? And what did Vanessa know that had driven her to attack my baby at the dinner table?
