“Is Brenda going to be angry with me?” Chloe asked, gently biting her lower lip.
“I’ll speak with Brenda myself,” Rosalyn reassured her in a gentle tone.
“My dad said I was going home tomorrow, and Brenda even put shiny unicorn wallpaper in my new bedroom,” Chloe added with a hopeful smile.
Rosalyn looked at the girl’s thin arms, the faint shadows beneath her eyes, and remembered the four pounds Chloe had lost during the previous month. “You’re going to remain here with us for a few more days.”
“How many more days do I need to stay?” Chloe asked.
“Only as many as we need to make certain you can go home completely safe and healthy,” Rosalyn promised.
Two hours later, Chloe’s father arrived at her room. His name was Brandon, a thirty-eight-year-old civil engineer who had raised his daughter alone ever since his wife passed away in a de.vas.ta.ting highway acc!dent three years earlier.
