Chapter 7
Miles explained the phrase badly.
“Primary means event-facing.”
I stared.
“Try again.”
He sighed.
“For public appearances.”
“Why Sophie?”
“She’s older.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“She handles people better.”
There.
Hazel’s fear was not merely inconvenient.
It interfered with presentation.
“What were you planning?”
Silence.
Evelyn answered.
“Family events.”
I looked at her.
“You wanted Sophie beside me.”
“She photographs well.”
I almost laughed.
“So does Hazel.”
“When she isn’t crying.”
The room went cold.
That was the truth.
They had been using the machine to train Hazel out of visible fear because visible fear ruined the image they wanted.
And if she could not be trained?
Replace her at events with Sophie.
I thought of the videos.
No crying.
No Daddy.
No Grandma.
A three-year-old taught that love, comfort, and fear were all signs of weakness.
Not because anyone cared whether she became strong.
Because she was being auditioned for her own place in the family.
I looked at Miles.
“And if she failed?”
He said nothing.
“Connecticut?”
His face changed.
Not Connecticut.
Somewhere else.
Evelyn whispered:
“Boarding school later.”
I stared.
“She is three.”
“Later.”
Always later.
Every cruel plan becomes reasonable when placed far enough into the future.
I stepped closer.
“You were preparing my daughter to disappear from public life before she was old enough to read.”
No answer.
Cora looked sick.
May you like
That was when I realized the tennis court was not punishment.
It was training.
