Chapter 5
Dr. Benton shook her head.
“Not again tonight.”
“I did it once.”
“And tomorrow we assess why. Tonight, you let your body recover.”
Sophia reluctantly allowed the therapist to bring her wheelchair.
I pushed it.
Not Gabriel.
The small office behind the ballroom had beige walls, a mahogany conference table, and the stale smell of coffee made hours earlier.
Rain clicked against the narrow window.
Sophia sat in a regular chair because she refused to return to the wheelchair immediately. Her legs trembled beneath the table. Dr. Benton examined her ankles and knees while I remained beside her.
Luca stood across from us.
Gabriel remained near the door.
Vincent took a seat and opened a yellow legal pad.
“Before anyone begins confessing to crimes, miracles, or administrative incompetence,” he said, “we establish basic facts.”
Luca’s eyes flashed.
Vincent uncapped his pen.
“I charge by the hour. Anger makes me patient.”
Dr. Benton looked up.
“Sophia’s movement does not mean the original diagnosis was false.”
Luca’s focus shifted to her.
“She ran.”
“She took six uncontrolled steps after performing a transfer she has practiced for months.”
“You told me she moved three inches.”
“I told you she had regained voluntary movement in both feet, limited weight-bearing control, and inconsistent standing with parallel bars.”
“She has never stood for me.”
Dr. Benton’s face softened.
“Because the moment you enter the therapy room, she tries to protect you from disappointment.”
Sophia stared at the floor.
Luca’s voice changed.
“Baby.”
“You look sad when I can’t do it.”
His mouth opened.
No answer came.
May you like
Dr. Benton continued.
“Her spinal injury was incomplete. The damaged pathways did not disappear entirely. We have worked on standing, braces, balance, and gait patterning. Emotional recognition and adrenaline can temporarily override some of the fear and protective inhibition around movement.”
