I promised to meet her.
I also promised myself that Ryan would eventually know the truth.
I just didn’t know how to tell him without tearing apart the image of the mother he’d spent his life protecting.
Unfortunately, Patricia discovered what I was doing before I had the chance.
She called me on Thursday morning.
“Chloe, darling. We need to have a private conversation.”
Her voice was unusually warm.
“About what?”
“Your future. Our family. I think it’s time we stopped pretending we’re going to become friends.”
She invited me to her house that afternoon.
I almost refused.
Then I realized something important.
If Patricia knew I’d contacted Elaine, she was probably frightened.
And if she was frightened, she might finally make a mistake I could prove.
I told her I’d come.
When I arrived, Patricia was waiting in the living room. Two cups of tea sat on the table, along with a thick cream-colored envelope.
