question.”
“No.”
He drew a slow breath.
“After I met you at the health center, I asked who you were.”
“So Vivian told me.”
“You were arguing with a pharmacist.”
“I was not arguing.”
“You threatened to call three state agencies.”
“The prescription had been approved.”
“You were terrifying.”
I tried not to smile.
He continued.
“Later, your mother told me about you. Not the dramatic things. Small things. That you took the longest route home because you liked passing a bakery that gave leftover bread to the shelter. That you pretended not to notice when your father burned breakfast because he looked proud of making it.”
My throat tightened.
“She told you that?”
“She loved talking about you.”
He turned toward the rain again.
“When I created the contingency plan, I needed someone outside the company. Someone Vale would not control. Someone Vivian could not intimidate.”
“I am not
