IMOGEN'S POV
"Does it matter?"
Lana's perfectly plucked eyebrows drew together. Her manicured fingers drifted up to the gold cross dangling at her throat—an accessory she'd acquired sometime after I left. It glinted against her designer blouse, costume jewelry on a woman playing dress-up.
"Is that why you've come back?" The question trembled slightly at the edges.
A laugh escaped me, sharp enough to turn heads. Several parents near the school gate paused their conversations, eyes darting our way.
"So that's what this ambush is about? Of course this was less about an accidental meeting and more about curiosity?" My voice rose with each word. "You want to know why I'm back? If I'm here to destroy your precious boy's life?"
"Please, Imogen." Her fingers clutched the cross now, knuckles whitening. "Keep your voice down. I just want to talk."
