“Everyone can wait for facts.”

She turned to go, then stopped.

“Did you ever think Preston liked you?”

“I thought he liked talking about production.”

Brielle nodded so quickly I almost missed the sadness in it.

She had been told that being chosen by a wealthy man was the highest possible achievement.

She had turned my professional conversation into an attack because she had no other measure of her own value.

“Brielle,” I said, “I don’t want your life.