It was a Tuesday at the beginning of October.

“That’s six months before Patrick and I met,” I said.

Arthur nodded slowly, his expression completely grim.

“He didn’t run into you by chance at that café, Serena.

He bought your foster case file six months before.”

I stared at the name of the buyer listed in the right-hand column.

It said Sterling Capital Management.

A twelve-hundred-dollar priority processing fee had been charged to a corporate credit card.