Sofia sighed, crossed her arms, and said in a sweet voice, too sweet, « Honey, you’re exaggerating. Your mom is being dramatic. She’s just tired. »
But my mother barely shook her head, an almost imperceptible gesture. I knew her. That movement was her way of asking for help without uttering a single word.
I approached the table. On the tablecloth were carefully folded papers. I recognized my logo printed in the corner. It was internal company documentation.
I felt a cold emptiness in my chest.
« Why does she have these papers? » I asked, looking directly at Sofia. My voice was no longer a shout. It was something worse: it was calm.
Sofia smiled without showing her teeth. “Because your mom wanted to help you. I asked her to check some numbers. You’re always busy.”
My mother looked up. Her eyes were red. “I didn’t mean to bother you, son,” she whispered.
I took one of the documents. They were transfers. Donations to foundations I didn’t recognize. Huge sums leaving accounts that bore my digital signature.
