"Have they told you anything?" she asked.

"Not really," Sophia answered, her voice flat and lifeless. "They said they had to operate urgently—something about internal bleeding. And they said something about a coma and—and—and—"

​​

She broke down in rattling sobs, and her shoulders shook beneath Catherine's arm. Catherine rubbed her back.

"It's going to be okay," Catherine said. "Linda is strong—you'll see."

Privately, she had doubts. In her last life, she remembered getting news from Sophia that Linda had slipped into a coma. Tom had refused to pay any medical expenses, and Sophia had taken on another job to try to pay for her mom's doctors and hospital bed. Later, she'd married a man her father had suggested in the hopes that her husband would pay for her mom's medical care. The last she'd heard, Linda's condition had only gotten worse over the years, and Sophia's husband had refused to pay for her care.

"It's going to be different this time," Catherine whispered. "It has to be."

"What?" Sophia asked.

"We're going to get your mom the best medical care possible," she said. "Just wait and see, she'll be okay."

"Sophia Wells," a nurse called.

Sophia shot up out of her chair, "Is she okay?"

The nurse looked puzzled, "Who?"

"My mom," Sophia said.

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about that," the nurse said sympathetically. "But the doctor will see you now."

Sophia stood frozen on the spot. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, and her face was pale.

"Sophia," Catherine said, taking her friend's hand. "It's time for you to see the doctor."

Like a puppet, Sophia allowed Catherine to pull her down the hallway toward the examination station. She helped Sophia climbed up onto the table and did her best to answer the doctor's questions. Sophia just stared straight ahead.

"She might be concussed," the doctor concluded. "She's not in a good state—we might have to do some scans."

Catherine leaned down and looked into her friend's face. Her green eyes were wild with panic, and there was blood crusted on her cheek.

"Sophia, I need you to talk to the doctor," she said. "It's very important that you answer his questions."

Sophia's eyes flickered with recognition, and she turned to look at the doctor as if just noticing him for the first time.

"Ask her the questions again," Catherine said.

The doctor repeated his list of questions about the injury. As Sophia explained what had happened, Catherine felt her blood boil. She thought about hitting Tom with the chair leg and wished she'd hit him a few more times—wished she'd killed him.

The doctor continued with his list of questions, asking Sophia her name, the date, the name of the prime minister, and examining her vision by waving his finger back and forth.

"Well, I don't think she's concussed," he finally said. "Just traumatized."

He gently peeled the gauze back from her forehead and examined the wound.

"This will need a few stitches, though," he said.

Sophia barely winced as the hooked needle pierced her skin, and the doctor sewed the cut closed. He covered it with disinfectant and a bandage and discharged her.

"If she starts to show any signs of a concussion, bring her back here," he advised.

In the emergency room, they found Maria and Samuel waiting for them. Maria immediately wrapped her arms around Sophia.

"Oh, my poor baby," she said.

Sophia rested her head on Maria's shoulders and burst into desperate sobs. Maria stroked her hair and comforted her, but Catherine could see that her stepmother's eyes were red with unshed tears. Samuel looked upset too, he stared at the floor and sniffled quietly.

"What's going on with the operation?" Maria asked, still hugging Sophia.

"We don't have any news yet," Catherine said.

"What happened?" Maria asked.

"The usual," Catherine said. "I'm not sure it's good for Sophia to talk about it right now."

"She'll have to tell the police," Maria murmured.

"I know," Catherine said. "But give her some time."

"It's okay," Sophia said between sobs. "He was drunk, and he started yelling at her, and then she mentioned the divorce and how I thought it was a good idea. She usually never fights back like that. So, of course, he started fighting her, beating her like I haven't seen in years, and then when he was finished, he came for me—yelling that I was trying to ruin his life."

"Oh, sweetie," Maria whispered, hugging her tighter. "I'm so sorry that happened."

Catherine's stomach twisted with a wave of sickening guilt.

"Sophia, I'm so sorry," she said. "It's all my fault. I should have never pressured you to convince Linda to get a divorce."

"It's not your fault," Sophia said between sobs. "He would have found a reason to hit her anyway. He's a monster."

"Don't worry," Maria soothed. "You two will never see him again. We'll make sure of that."

***

Sean returned to his office after the business with Drew, ready to find Catherine waiting for him. But the room was empty. He shrugged and crossed to the desk—she'd probably gone to the bathroom. He smiled as he found a sketch of a woman wearing a stylish miniskirt and fall coat. He studied the drawing, and a sudden feeling of dread filled him. Across the middle of the page was a single, dark pencil line. It looked as if Catherine had been surprised while drawing it. He looked on top of his desk and then beneath it, expecting to find her purse, but it was gone.

His heart hammered in his chest, and dread knotted in his stomach. He fumbled for his phone and dialed her cell, but she didn't answer. He tried again and then hit Geoffrey's number. She didn't answer either, and his head spun.

He screamed for his secretaries to bring him security footage of the building. Scanning through the tapes, he found Catherine running out of the building and getting into a cab, but the footage was too grainy to make out the license plate numbers. He called Andy and Alan and everyone who might have seen her, but none of them had. He paced his office, and with each step, he imagined another horrible scenario.