The Call Boy I Met in Paris – Episode 57
Justin listened without interrupting while Sophie reconstructed the meeting. She described Stella insisting on a drink, denying the plagiarism, and changing the moment the sedative began to work. The effort made her hands tremble, but speaking the sequence aloud transformed scattered memories into evidence.
“She knew photographers were waiting,” Sophie said. “They started filming before I could stand. Stella wanted everyone to think I was drunk, and she made sure Ted would be photographed carrying me.”
Justin rose from the chair, fury tightening every line of his body. “I am calling the police. Patrick will send a private investigator to the café, and we will secure the security footage before anyone can erase it.”
“Stop.” Sophie caught his wrist. Even weak, she held on until he looked at her. “Not yet.”
“Why?” His control cracked. “She drugged you. You could have stopped breathing, been assaulted, or disappeared before Ted reached you.”
“I know what could have happened.” Sophie’s voice shook despite her attempt to steady it. “But there is something else I need to learn from Stella before she knows how much I suspect.”
“The painting is not worth your life.”
“This is not only about the painting.” She released him and drew the blanket around herself, suddenly cold. The doubt had lived at the edge of her memory for years, too painful to examine and too uncertain to name. Stella’s willingness to drug her had stripped away the last reason to dismiss it.
Justin returned to the chair. “Then tell me.”
Sophie looked toward the rain-dark window. “My mother’s death.”
The words changed the room. Justin knew her birthday was tied to the loss and understood that her mother’s company had shaped every choice since, but Sophie had rarely spoken about the day itself.
“Everyone said she took her own life,” Sophie continued. “I was young, and my father refused to discuss the investigation. Karen moved into our lives afterward, Stella became the daughter he defended, and every question I asked was treated like grief making me irrational.”
“You never believed the official conclusion?”
“I tried to.” Sophie pressed her fingers against her temple, fighting the headache. “But my mother had plans for the company, plans for me, and she left details that never made sense. Lately, I keep wondering whether Karen and Stella know more than they admitted.”
Justin considered what could be observed without giving Sophie false certainty. “Did the police formally determine it was suicide?”
“Yes. Unless new evidence appears, they will not reopen the case.”
“Then we find evidence.” His tone carried none of the hesitation she expected. “We do it carefully, and we do it without giving Stella another chance to hurt you.”
Sophie wanted to accept the promise, but a new fear surfaced. “If Stella thinks I know about the painting, she may destroy whatever records connect her to my mother next.”