44. Waging War #2
“I was very intrigued to find out the good use my money was being put to. Imagine my surprise when I found out the truth. Well, you don’t need to imagine, do you?
You already know.” She smiles. “I’ve already sent everything to the Serious Fraud Office, along with the witness statements and the financial records you so helpfully left unredacted in your own quarterly reports. ”
The colour drains from Mrs Pearson’s face. Her husband’s smile fractures into something small and flailing, unrecognisable.
Sophie doesn’t stop. She might not be made of metal, but she is a machine, utterly unstoppable.
“You used Elias for your reputation, your tax benefits, your vanity—and when he became inconvenient, you let the wolves have him. Something no parent would ever allow—something I’m certain you would never in a lifetime do to your own biological children.”
Finally, Sophie turns back to me. Something in her expression softens—only enough that I feel the change like a shock to the heart. After seven days of being ordered this way and that, after being talked over and ignored by everyone in this room, Sophie speaks directly to me.
“I’ve reviewed the full report, Elias,” she says.
“What they did to you was illegal, unethical, and unforgivable. Your innocence was never once considered, let alone presumed. You were detained without charge, isolated without contact, humiliated in the press, and treated like a criminal by the very people who should have protected you. That stops here. Someone should have fought for you a long time ago. Consider that mistake corrected.”
My throat feels so tight I can’t even swallow. For the first time in my life, I can’t think of anything clever or funny or even cynical to say. I just stare at her, and in her calm, lethal composure, I see the formidable woman Desdemona is going to become.
Sophie gathers her files, tucks them neatly into her dorky satchel, and straightens her blazer. Then she looks at the superintendent and says, almost dismissively, “We’re done here.”
He blinks. “I—sorry, Mrs Sutton-Knight, but Mr Lennox is still—”
“No,” Sophie interrupts, her tone absolute. “We’re done. Elias has been unlawfully detained, and he’s leaving with me. Now.”
Despite the fact it ends up taking almost three hours to get through all the paperwork and admin of my release, I’m still in shock by the time we emerge into the crisp daylight, blinking blearily into a faceful of sunshine. I don’t know why, but I imagined it had been raining—this entire time.
We get to the car, a big mud-splattered four-by-four, and I’m surprised when Sophie climbs into the driver’s seat.
I expected her to use a chauffeur, but when I get in, it’s immediately obvious this is actually Sophie’s car.
There’s an air-freshener in the shape of a moon crescent dangling from the rearview mirror.
Paper cups of coffee are stacked haphazardly in the cup holders, and in the back of the car lie books, folders in filing boxes, a half-empty box of boozy chocolate truffles and a big fluffy scarf in deep brown wool.
Sophie starts the car and glances at me, smiling.
“Ready?” she says.
“Where are we going?” I ask her, still shocked, still expecting to wake up any moment.
“It’s completely up to you,” Sophie says. “My home is open to you, if you wish, or we can find you somewhere to stay. Or—” She glances over at me. “I could drop you back to Spearcrest to catch up on exams.”
I almost laugh.
“As if I’d be allowed anywhere near it.”
“Why wouldn’t you be? You were the victim of false allegations and police mishandling, and Spearcrest didn’t do anything to safeguard you.
If anything, they’d be lucky if you deigned to go back, given the circumstances.
” She smiles. “You don’t have to unless you want to, of course.
I just thought you might still wish to secure that Harvard scholarship of yours. ”
There’s a piercing sensation in my chest. I’ve not allowed myself to think of the scholarship since I got dragged out of my exam. In my mind, it’s like all those things that have always existed and never existed all at once, as grand yet intangible as the entire timeline of the world.
“I don’t think Harvard’s on the cards anymore, Mrs Sutton-Knight.”
She rolls her eyes in a gesture that is so inherently Desdemona it makes my heart ache.
“Mr Mazzati and Mr North have been hard at work making sure Harvard would never be off the cards,” she says. And, with a snarky sniff, she adds, “It’s the least they could do, really.”
My eyes burn, and for a moment, I can’t even speak. I don’t know why this hits me the hardest. I didn’t even cry when they arrested me, or when I was locked up, or when I watched my own future crumble like a handful of ashes in my palms.
But now, for the first time in a long time, my eyes blur with tears.
“Spearcrest, then?” Sophie says.
I nod, turning away to quickly wipe my eyes with my knuckles. She pulls the car out of the car park and onto the road. I gaze wordlessly out of the window, watching the ugly concrete fortress and barbed-wired walls disappear.
Finally, I manage to squeeze my voice out through my constricted throat.
“I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay any of you.”
“Well, when people who love you do things to help you, usually they only want one thing in return,” Sophie says.
I glance at her. “What?”
“Your happiness.”
I scoff. “C’mon, now. Life’s not a movie.”
“Definitely not,” Sophie says. “If it was, you’d be riding off into the sunset with my daughter and living happily ever after.
Instead, you’re about to walk back into school to sit all your exams after some pretty traumatic stuff happened to you.
Life’s not a movie, but it is what you make of it.
There’s a lot of hard work ahead of you, and a lifetime of struggle and doubt and fear and pain.
Really, the least you can do is try to be as happy as possible when it’s all said and done, no? ”
I stare at her, but my throat is too tight to speak.
Sophie grins arrogantly.
“Exactly.”