The Woman They Humiliated Owned Everything

approached me. She was nineteen, sharp-eyed, defensive in the way I recognized immediately.

“You really grew up in foster care?” she asked.

“I did.”

“And you got rich?”

I smiled. “Eventually.”

She studied me. “But you still look sad sometimes.”

The honesty nearly knocked me over.

“Yes,” I said. “Sometimes.”

“Does it go away?”

I looked across the garden, where continue reading …