Patrick answered the call with that same smug ease, like the world existed to confirm his choices.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, we’re at dinner—”
He stopped.
At first, it was subtle. A flicker in his expression. A slight tightening around his eyes.
Then his posture changed.
“What do you mean?” he asked, sitting up straighter now.
The table went quiet again.
Everyone could hear her voice—faint, but sharp—spilling through the phone.
Patrick stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. Who told you that?”
A pause.
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