You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 641

The old photo had been resealed, but some parts were still blurry with age. Even so, Patricia spotted him right away—the tallest boy in the crowd.

He looked just like the man standing in front of her now.

Patricia hadn’t forgotten the Westbrook Orphanage. Jason had overseen every detail of its construction, practically building it with his own hands. What started out as charity had grown into something much deeper, something genuine.

Every child there had a sponsor, and every sponsorship lasted all the way through college graduation.

She never imagined that she and Brandon would be connected by this place.

“You probably looked into me, Patricia,” Brandon said, his voice steady. “The privileged kid whose parents both jumped to their deaths, leaving me with nothing. When I was at my lowest, your father, Mr. Martin, was the one who helped me. I owe him. I owe you. If our paths had never crossed, maybe it wouldn’t matter. But here we are, and your case landed on my desk. Whether it’s my job or just the debt I owe, I can’t ignore this.”

“Mr. Martin wants me to be his weapon. I’m willing—without him, I wouldn’t be here at all.”

“With the Emerson case, he handed me evidence—way more than the police ever had. I’m grateful for that. But Mr. Martin, I’ll do anything for you, anything I can. Still, I’m my own person. My team and I—we’re not just here to follow your every move. You gave us Wilma right when Amber was about to give birth, forcing Emerson’s hand. Then you pushed Emerson to turn on Tina, just as Tina was being dragged through the mud by the press. Every step, you strike first, watch everyone scramble, and then use us to finish the job and put them away. Sure, that’s my job, and it’s your plan. But Mr. Martin, we’re not just tools you can pick up whenever you want.”

Brandon’s words left no room for doubt.

He’d do his job, but he wouldn’t be Patricia’s weapon just because she asked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, carefully setting it on the table and smoothing it out before sliding it across to her.

It was the log from his last prison visit.

He’d ripped out the page.

His message was clear. For Patricia, he would do anything.

Brandon took it, slid it into his jacket, and headed for the door. He paused just before leaving. “I’ll keep working on Mr. Martin’s case. But this time, if there’s anything else, just lay it all out. Don’t string us along, tossing us scraps like we’re dogs. We’re not your enemies.”

The door swung open with a bang.

Brandon’s broad shoulders disappeared from view.

Patricia sat alone in the tea room, head resting on her hand, lost in thought.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the table with a new message.

She picked it up and saw it was a photo from Brandon, sent just moments ago.