Chapter 4 - The Sister Sophie Never Knew She Had
Three days later, the infection cleared.
Sophie's fever broke just before dawn.
By noon, Dr. Patel began talking about the next battle.
"Her leukemia responded to induction," she explained in a small consultation room. "That's good news. But based on the genetic features of her disease, the risk of relapse is high. A stem cell transplant offers the best chance for long-term remission."
Sophie sat beside me wearing the gray sweater from her apartment.
She looked tiny inside it.
"And the registry?" she asked.
Dr. Patel hesitated.
"We haven't found an ideal unrelated donor yet."
Sophie nodded as if she had expected that.
I had not.
"How long can we wait?"
"We have some time, but not unlimited time."
I leaned forward.
"You said siblings can be the best matches."
"Often, yes."
"She doesn't have any."
Sophie looked down.
Dr. Patel glanced at her chart.
"Your father is living, correct?"
Sophie's shoulders stiffened.
"Technically."
I knew that tone.
Her father, Daniel Bennett, had left when Sophie was eight.
He had sent birthday cards for two years, then nothing.
Sophie's mother raised her alone.
When her mother died, Sophie had tried once to locate him.
She found out he had remarried.
She never contacted him.
"Parents are usually half-matches," Dr. Patel said. "Depending on the situation, that can still be useful. But if your father had other children..."
Sophie went very still.
"He didn't."
"Are you certain?"
The doctor asked gently.
Sophie looked at me.
I already knew what she was thinking.
In my world, certainty could be purchased.
Records could be found.
People could be located.
But this was her life.
I waited.
Finally, she said, "You want to investigate him."
"Only if you ask me to."
Her eyebrows rose slightly.
"You mean that?"
"Yes."
She stared at her hands.
"I don't want to see him."
"Okay."
"But if he has children..."
Her voice broke.
I reached toward her, then paused.
She nodded.
I took her hand.
"Find out," she whispered.
Nico had an answer by that evening.
Daniel Bennett was alive.
He lived in Madison, Wisconsin.
He had remarried twenty-four years earlier.
And he had a daughter.
Claire Bennett, twenty-eight years old.
Sophie's half-sister.
When I told Sophie, she did not speak for almost a minute.
"She has my last name," she finally said.
"Yes."
"He gave her his name."
I understood the wound immediately.
Daniel had left Sophie and her mother, then built another family carrying the same name.
"I'm sorry."
Sophie laughed bitterly.
"I don't even know what I'm feeling."
"You don't have to know."
She looked at me.
"You really have been listening to the therapist books, haven't you?"
I blinked.
She smiled faintly.
"You bought books."
"I bought three."
"Of course you did."
"Nico bought them."
"That's somehow worse."
We both laughed.
For ten seconds, we were married again.
Then reality returned.
"Will you contact her?" Sophie asked.
"If you want me to."
"Not my father. Her."
"Claire."
She nodded.
"Tell her the truth. Don't pressure her. Don't offer money."
That last part hurt because it was exactly what old Ethan would have done.
"I won't."
Later, Claire told me what happened during those forty-five minutes behind the closed door.
She had walked into Sophie's room carrying a coffee she was too nervous to drink.
For almost a full minute, neither sister knew what to say.
Then Claire noticed the paperback on Sophie's bedside table.
"You like mystery novels?" she asked.
Sophie looked embarrassed.
"Bad ones."
Claire laughed.
"Me too. The worse the cover, the better."
That was the first thing they discovered.
The second was that both of them hated olives.
The third was that they both folded the corners of book pages even though they knew they should not.
Then Claire showed Sophie a childhood photograph on her phone.
She was six years old, missing both front teeth, standing beside Daniel Bennett at a county fair.
Sophie stared at the image for a long time.
"He looks happy," she had whispered.
Claire almost put the phone away.
But Sophie stopped her.
"No. Let me see."
So they looked together.
Claire's first day of school.
Her high school graduation.
A family Christmas.
A father Sophie had spent years trying not to remember smiling beside a daughter who never knew Sophie existed.
Claire cried before Sophie did.
"I feel like I stole your life," she said.
Sophie shook her head.
"You were a child. You didn't steal anything."
"But I had him."
"Then be angry at him for lying. Don't punish yourself for being loved."
When Claire repeated those words to me later, I had to look away.
That was Sophie.
Even while fighting for her life, she refused to make an innocent person pay for someone else's sins.
The donor testing began the next morning.
Claire spent hours giving blood, answering medical questions, and meeting with a donor advocate whose job was to make sure she understood that she could change her mind at any time.
I respected that more than I expected.
No pressure.
No debt.
No assumption that family meant obligation.
When the coordinator asked Claire privately whether anyone had coerced her, she laughed.
"The scary ex-husband was specifically told not to offer me money."
I was offended for at least five minutes.
Sophie thought it was hilarious.
Claire answered the phone herself.
I introduced myself.
There was a long silence.
"The Ethan Moretti?"
"Unfortunately."
"Why are you calling me?"
"Because you have a sister."
Another silence.
This one lasted longer.
"I don't have a sister."
"Your father had a daughter before you were born. Her name is Sophie."
Claire's breathing changed.
"You're lying."
"I wish I were."
I told her enough to verify the story.
Her father's first marriage.
Sophie's mother's name.
The year he left.
Then I told her about the leukemia.
Claire did not interrupt.
When I finished, her voice was smaller.
"Does my dad know you're calling me?"
"No."
"Does Sophie know?"
"Yes. She asked me to contact you."
"What does she want from me?"
"Nothing you're not willing to give."
I swallowed.
"But you may be able to save her life."
Claire cried.
Quietly at first.
Then hard enough that I heard her move the phone away.
I waited.
"I'll get tested," she said.
"You don't have to decide today."
"I already decided."
"Claire—"
"I have spent my whole life thinking I was an only child. If there's a woman in Chicago fighting cancer who shares my father and my blood, I'm getting tested."
I closed my eyes.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet."
She paused.
"Is she nice?"
The question nearly broke me.
"She's the best person I've ever known."
"Then why are you her ex-husband?"
I almost laughed.
"Because I'm an idiot."
Claire was silent.
"At least you know."
She arrived in Chicago two days later.
Sophie refused to let me be in the room when they met.
"This isn't about you," she said.
"I know."
"You look offended."
"I'm Italian. I look offended while ordering lunch."
She rolled her eyes.
I waited outside.
Forty-five minutes later, the door opened.
Claire stepped into the hallway with red eyes.
She looked more like Sophie than I had expected.
Not identical.
But the same chin.
The same way they pressed their lips together when trying not to cry.
"She's funny," Claire said.
"She is."
"She said you were impossible."
"Also true."
Claire wiped her face.
Then her expression changed.
"My father knew."
I went still.
"What?"
"He knew Sophie was sick."
Cold spread through me.
"How?"
"Because he called her."
I looked toward the closed hospital room.
"When?"
"Two weeks ago."
I could barely believe it.
Sophie had never mentioned him.
"What did he want?"
Claire's eyes hardened.
"According to Sophie, he wanted her to promise never to contact me."
Something inside me turned to ice.
"Why?"
Claire looked down.
"Because he told my mother Sophie died years ago."
I stared at her.
"He built his second family on a lie."
"Yes."
The door opened behind us.
Sophie stood there holding the IV pole.
Her face was pale, but her voice was steady.
"And now that lie might be the reason I live."
Claire turned.
The two sisters looked at each other.
Neither spoke.
Then Claire stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Sophie.
Sophie froze.
Only for a second.
Then she hugged her back.
I turned away.
Some moments did not belong to me.
But as I looked down the hallway, I saw a man near the elevator watching us.
Black coat.
Hospital visitor badge.
His face was familiar.
It took me three seconds to place him.
He had once worked security for Matteo.
The moment our eyes met, he turned and walked quickly toward the stairs.
May you like
My phone was already in my hand.
"Nico," I said. "We have a problem."
