Page 45 of Their Arrangement
I turned.
Walked away.
Didn’t look back.
Didn’t let her see the way my hands were shaking.
6
CLOE
I lockedthe bathroom door and sat down on the toilet lid like my legs couldn’t hold me anymore.
Not to pee.
Not to fix my makeup.
Just to breathe.
The fluorescent lights above buzzed like they were judging me. The tile was too white—too sterile, too clean. The scent of bleach and hand soap burned the back of my throat. Nothing in this room held memory.
Except me.
Iwas the ghost in the room.
The folder in my lap trembled between my hands. My fingers dug into the edges, bending the paper. I didn’t even remember what was in it—contracts, maybe. Invoices. HR paperwork I’d been told to deliver.
None of it mattered now.
What mattered was Wolfe’s voice still echoing in my head.
Camille was the only good thing in this family.
And me?
I was the leftover.
The disappointment.
The wrong girl in the right girl’s clothes.
The mistake who dared to wear her scent.
I curled forward, pressing my head against the side of the stall. Cold metal met my forehead. I didn’t flinch.
My chest ached.
But no tears came.
I wanted to cry.
God, I wanted to cry.
But I’d already cried her dry.
I’d already bled all over the memory of her and still couldn’t scrub the guilt out of my skin.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the photo.
