Every Apology Has A Price

Summary

I have always been shameless about money. A bottom-feeder, raw and unpolished, obsessed with the bottom line.

When my biological parents finally tracked me down at fifteen, pulling me out of the gutter to bring me back into the fold of high-society wealth, the very first thing I asked them was blunt:

"Is there a reunion bonus?"

My mother’s rehearsed, tearful smile froze on her face.

My older sister, Elaine, immediately pinched her brows together in disgust. "You just walked through the front door, and the first thing you do is beg for cash?"