“Daddy, please don't be angry.”
Seven-year-old Sophie stood in the middle of the enormous marble hallway, holding a small silver bowl filled with warm water.
Her father, Richard Hayes, stared down at her from his wheelchair.
“What are you doing with that?”
Sophie looked at his feet.
“I wanted to help you.”
Richard's jaw tightened.
“Who told you to do this?”
“Nobody.”
Across the room, Richard's wife, Victoria, folded her arms and smiled.
“I told her several times to stop bothering you.”
Sophie immediately looked down.
“I wasn't bothering him.”
“Sophie,” Victoria said sharply, “go upstairs.”
The little girl didn't move.
Richard looked at her.
“Did you hear her?”
Sophie's eyes filled with tears.
“Yes, Daddy.”
She slowly placed the bowl on the floor.
Then she reached toward his foot.
Richard pulled it away.
“Don't.”
Sophie froze.
“I'm sorry.”
She turned around.
But before she could walk away, the housekeeper, Mrs. Green, stepped forward.
“Mr. Hayes, she has been doing this every morning.”
Richard looked at her.
“Every morning?”
“Yes.”
Victoria immediately interrupted.
“She's a child. Children make up strange games.”
Richard stared at his wife.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Victoria shrugged.
“Because you have enough problems.”
Richard's expression hardened.
He had spent the last year recovering from an accident that had left him dependent on a wheelchair. His business managers handled his company, while Victoria handled most things inside the mansion.
But lately, he had noticed something different.
Sophie no longer laughed when Victoria entered the room.
She stopped asking for things.
She had even started eating dinner in her bedroom.
Richard had assumed she was simply adjusting to the changes in their family.
Now he wasn't so sure.
“Sophie,” he said softly.
The girl turned around.
“Yes, Daddy?”
“Why do you wash my feet every morning?”
Sophie looked at Victoria.
Victoria shook her head almost imperceptibly.
But Sophie finally whispered the words.
“Because Grandma told me to.”
Richard frowned.
“Your grandmother?”
Sophie nodded.
“Before she died.”
The room became completely silent.
Richard's mother had died eight months earlier.
He had never heard anything about this.
“What exactly did she tell you?”
Sophie hugged herself.
“She said one day you would be angry with me.”
Richard stared at her.
“Why would I be angry with you?”
Sophie looked at the bowl.
“Because you wouldn't remember.”
Richard's face changed.
“Remember what?”
Sophie didn't answer.
Victoria stepped forward.
“That's enough. She needs to go upstairs.”
Richard looked at his wife.
“No.”
Victoria stopped.
“What?”
“For the first time, I'm going to listen to my daughter.”
Sophie looked up at him.
And Richard suddenly realized that the little girl had been trying to tell him something for months.
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