Katelyn’s POV

I stared out the window, watching the city blur past in elegant streaks of light and motion. The streets were getting wider, the air fresher, the buildings taller and more polished. It didn’t look anything like the farmland I had imagined when Marcus said my birth mother was a woman who hauled sacks of potatoes.

“Wait a minute,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Why are we heading toward Tribeca? Isn’t my home on a poor farm?”

Jack glanced at me from the driver’s seat ...