and vomiting.

This does not look like a stomach bug, and it does not look like the spaghetti.’

My mouth went dry.

‘Exposed how?’

‘That is what we need to determine.

But based on what she told us, we are required to notify hospital social work and the authorities.’

I looked through the curtain at Sophie.

She was watching us with ancient, exhausted eyes no child should have.

‘Is she going to be okay?’

‘We believe so,’ he said.

‘But she needs monitoring, and she needs to be protected from whoever gave it to her.’

The curtain rings rasped before I could answer.

Trevor stepped into the bay wearing the same navy jacket he had worn at my door.

Rain clung to his hair.

His expression was concerned at first, perfectly arranged, until his eyes moved from Sophie to me to Dr.

Patel’s folder.

Then something flickered.

Not fear exactly.

Calculation.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

‘Emily is upstairs terrified because you won’t answer.’

Sophie made a tiny sound and pressed herself into the pillow.

I moved between him and the bed.

‘You need to leave.’

His eyebrows lifted.

‘Excuse me?’

Dr.

Patel stepped forward.

‘Sir, only approved guardians can be here right now.’

‘I’m her mother’s partner.’

‘Are you her legal guardian?’

Trevor’s jaw tightened.

‘Emily wants me here.’

Sophie whispered, ‘No.’

It was barely a sound, but every adult in that small space heard it.

Trevor looked at her.

His face softened in a way that might have fooled someone who had not just seen a child collapse from fear.

‘Sophie, sweetheart, you’re confused.

Remember what we talked about? Big feelings make stories sound scarier than they are.’

She began to cry without making noise.

A security guard appeared behind Trevor.

Then a woman from social work.

The air changed.

Trevor noticed it too.

He laughed once, low and offended.

‘This is ridiculous.

She has anxiety.

I told Emily this would happen with the baby coming.

Sophie acts out when she isn’t the center of attention.’

I wanted to slap that sentence out of the room.

Instead, I said, ‘She said you gave her drops.’

His eyes snapped to me.

Only for a second.

Then he sighed.

‘Children say weird things.’

Dr.

Patel kept his voice even.

‘Then you won’t mind waiting outside while we clarify.’

Trevor did mind.

His face flushed.

He looked down the hall toward the elevators, then back at Sophie.

For the first time, I saw panic break through the polish.

‘Emily needs me,’ he said.

Security escorted him out.

The moment he disappeared, Sophie started sobbing so hard I had to climb onto the bed and hold her.

Her whole body folded into mine.

‘He said Mommy would send me away,’ she cried.

‘He said babies can’t live with girls who make everyone sick.’

The social worker, a woman named Marlene, pulled up a chair.

She did not rush Sophie.

She asked simple questions, one at a time.

When did the drops start?

A week ago.

Where did he keep them?

In the pocket of his gym bag, then in the bathroom cabinet behind the shaving cream.

What did he call them?

Brave drops.

When did he give them to her?

Before dinner.

Before car rides.

Once before preschool pickup when Emily was