Que nodded with a warm chuckle. “Blessed be. Foebe is lucky to have you.”
Colin stood off to the side, quiet as a church mouse, a stark contrast to his usual charming self. His
presence felt cold, almost detached.
I had this sinking feeling that he didn’t take to Foebe’s grandmother all too kindly.
“Foebe, darling, I just don’t get your folks. Why on Earth would they push you to tie the knot with the
Langleys? How much dowry did they pocket? I raised you, sweetheart. Surely, your dear old grandma
should get a heads–up before any of that money reaches your mcm and dad, right?” Que said, her
voice sugary sweet, feigning concern for her.
I stiffened. There was something off about Foebe’s grandmother. She was nothing like I’d imagined. I
thought she genuinely cared for Foebe, but now it didn’t seem quite so.
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“Foebe, why don’t you give Coraline a ring, have here by for a visit?” Que whispered, tantly
ignoring Colin.
Perhaps she thought Colin was none the wiser.
“Also, before I got hospitalized, your brother mentioned wanting to buy a house. He’s not your blood,
sure, but you grew up in our family, didn’t you? Your uncle looked after you too.”
When I didn’t respond, Que spoke again, a little more hushed. “Foebe, that dimwit Colin, does he
have any money? Enough to help your brother get a ce? Nothing big, just a modest home in the
suburbs of Sea City, maybe 1,000 square feet or so. And if he could swing a car too,
that’d be the cherry on top.”
I stared at Foebe’s grandmother in disbelief. A house in Sea City’s suburbs? Even the most basic ones
run a quarter of a million per square foot. Was she out of her mind, or was it Colin? Why should anyone
bankroll a house for someone they barely knew?
“Grandma, he’s broke as a joke, and he holds no standing within the Langleys. Because of his
condition, everyone bullies us,” I said, feigning distress.
But Que glossed over my plight, pressing on. “Well, he’s certainly no Dexter. Dexter runs some big–
shotpany; he could afford it. He seems sweet on you. Maybe drop a hint his way?”
“Grandma, Colin’s not feeling too hot, I need to get him back to his room. You rest up, I’lle around
another day,” I said, dodging her demands and pulling Colin out of the room.
“Foebe Larson, growing wings now that you’re back with your birth parents?” Que spat out angrily.
Was this old bat serious?
“Do you know how Foebe Larson’s adoptive parents died?” Colin’s voice was dark and heavy as we
walked down the corridor. Suddenly, he didn’t seem the fool.
“Huh?” I was genuinely clueless about the fate of Foobe’s adoptive parents,
“Shot while resisting arrest. idental death,” he said solemnly.
That had been the root of his disdain for Foebe.
“Human traffickers.”
The whole lot of them.
Foebe’s grandmother was part of the ring. She’d parade Foebe around homeless kids, pretending to be
friendly, all the while waiting for buyers to make their move,
I looked at Colin, stunned. Had he known all this from the start?
Foebe Larson was indeed shrouded in secrets,
“Foebe Larson, are you alright?” As we entered the elevator, it seemed we had bumped into someone
from Foebe’s past.
She greeted me, concerned.
Feeling a bit dazed, I replied, “Oh? I’m fine.”
“I was so worried when you asked for all that quinidine the other day. Afraid you might do something
rash,” the acquaintance sighed with relief. “You said it was for your grandma, but I asked the doc, and
he said your grandma already had her prescription. I was scared stiff trying to reach you, afraid you
might be… you know…”
My body tensed. Quinidine?
“Do you remember when I asked for it?”
She paused, thinking, “It was the 17thst month.”
I nced at Colin instinctively. That was the day Foebe died, the very day I hade back.
Foebe’s death hadn’t been an ident. She had intentionally overdosed on quinidine, leading to a
cardiac toxicity and sudden death. Foebe had taken her own life.