“You were living in a state-run home when he found you,” she whispered, gazing out toward the road.

“You never belonged in a house like this to begin with.”

“Did Patrick ever tell you why he met me six years ago?”

Chloe didn’t turn around.

“He met you at a coffee shop.”

“He had my foster case file in his hands six months before that day, Chloe.”

She smoothed her skirt once more, but her fingers shook against the fabric.

“Patrick does whatever the company needs,” she said.