Claire POV
The driveway is long and Claire's hands grip the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turn white.
She's been driving for six hours. Boston to Connecticut. Margaret's house is in a quiet neighborhood where the streets are tree-lined and safe. Where a nanny can raise a child in peace. Where nobody asks questions. This is where Claire's daughter has been living without her.
Three years.
She turns off the engine and sits in the car. She can see the house through the windshield. White fence. Blue shutters. A garden with flowers. Everything is perfect and beautiful and it makes her want to scream because this should've been her house. These should've been the three years she spent with Sophia.
She gets out of the car.
Her legs feel shaky. Her heart is doing something weird in her chest. She walks to the front door and before she can knock, Margaret opens it. Margaret is in her sixties with grey hair and kind eyes. She's been the only mother Sophia has known.
"Claire," Margaret says, and there's something in her voice like sympathy mixed with judgment. "She's in the backyard. She doesn't know you're coming."
Claire walks through the house without responding. The walls are covered in photos. Sophia at one year old. Sophia at two. Sophia turning three last month. In every photo, Sophia is laughing or smiling or doing something that shows she's happy. Without Claire.
The backyard is bright and full of sun. A little girl is sitting in the grass playing with a doll. Blonde hair. Grey eyes. She looks like someone Claire knows but different. Smaller. More real than the photos.
"Sophia," Margaret calls out. "We have a visitor."
Sophia looks up. She sees Claire and something in her face changes. Not recognition. Confusion. She's shy with strangers and this woman is a stranger.
"Hi baby," Claire says, and her voice cracks on the word baby.
Sophia stands up slowly. She holds her doll against her chest like it's a shield. She doesn't come closer. She just watches Claire with suspicious eyes.
"Do I know you?" Sophia asks. Her voice is small and careful.
Claire kneels down to be at eye level. She wants to run to her daughter and pull her close but she can feel Sophia pulling back. "My name is Claire. I'm your mommy."
Sophia doesn't move. She looks at Margaret like she's checking if this is a trick. Margaret nods slightly. It's the truth.
"My mommy didn't come," Sophia says, like she's explaining something very important. "You said she would come but she didn't."
The words hit Claire like a punch. Sophia's been told her mother was coming. Sophia's been waiting. And her mother didn't come until now.
"I know baby," Claire says, and she reaches out slowly. "I'm sorry I took so long. But I'm here now."
Sophia looks at Claire's hand for a long time. Then she reaches out and takes it. Her hand is so small. So warm. So completely real.
"Are you really my mommy?" Sophia asks.
"Yeah," Claire says. "I really am."
They sit in the grass together. Sophia is cautious at first but slowly she starts to talk. She tells Claire about school. About her friend Lily. About the doll's name is Princess. About how much she loves Margaret but also wondered where her mommy was.
After an hour, Claire says, "I have a surprise. We're going to go together. You and me. We're going to New York and we're going to have our own house. Would you like that?"
Sophia nods. She doesn't understand fully what that means but she nods anyway because Claire is smiling and Sophia wants to make her happy.
Margaret packs Sophia's things. A small suitcase with clothes and toys and things that matter to a three-year-old. She walks them to the car and hugs Sophia tight. When she hugs Claire, Margaret whispers, "Don't break her again."
The drive to New York takes seven hours.
Sophia talks for the first hour. Then she gets quiet. By the third hour, she's leaning against the car window watching the world pass. By the fifth hour, she falls asleep.
Her head drops onto Claire's lap.
Claire can't drive and hold her daughter at the same time so she pulls over at a rest stop. She moves to the backseat and sits against the window and lets Sophia sleep on her lap. Her hand rests on Sophia's hair. Her daughter's breathing is soft and even. This is the first time in three years that they've been touching without someone else in the room.
Claire makes a promise to Sophia's sleeping face. A promise that nobody else will ever hear.
She promises that whatever she has to do, whatever line she has to cross, Sophia will never be separated from her again. Not for a day. Not for an hour. Not for a second if Claire can help it. She'll work and be present. She'll figure out how to be both the mother Sophia needs and the weapon David and Emma have created.
She has to be both. There's no other way.
At midnight, they arrive in New York.
The apartment is in Manhattan on the Upper East Side. Not where Claire lives now but where Ms. Peterson will live. It's beautiful. Modern. Two bedrooms. One for Claire. One for Sophia. A living room with big windows overlooking the city. It's the kind of place successful consultants live.
Claire carries Sophia inside. Her daughter doesn't wake up. She's been asleep for three hours. Claire lays her down in the small bed they bought specifically for her. She tucks a blanket around her and just watches her sleep for a while.
Sophia looks safe here. She looks like she belongs.
Claire goes to her own room and unpacks her suitcase. Ms. Peterson's clothes. Her fake documents. Her new identity. Everything she needs to be someone else.
She sets her phone on the nightstand and scrolls through her emails. Emma sent her a message an hour ago.
"Ready to start tomorrow? Walsh Industries is expecting to hear from your consulting firm about available dates. They're desperate for help. They'll hire you immediately. Once you're in, everything changes. Are you ready to do this?"
Claire looks at the photo of Sophia sleeping in the other room. She thinks about the promise she just made. She thinks about David's folder. She thinks about all the evidence of what Sebastian did.
She types back: "I'm ready."
She hits send.
She turns off her phone and lies in the dark listening to the sounds of New York City outside her window. Somewhere out there, Sebastian Walsh is asleep in his penthouse probably having no idea that the woman who's going to destroy him has just moved to the same city.
He has no idea that she's brought their daughter home.
He has no idea that his entire world is about to change.
Tomorrow, Ms. Peterson walks into Walsh Industries.
Tomorrow, the game starts for real.
And tonight, for the first time in three years, Claire Matthews falls asleep knowing her daughter is in the next room safe and hers.