PART 3 The courthouse smelled like wet coats, old paper, and coffee that had been burned for too many hours.

it correctly was new.

“Yes,” Savannah said.

He flinched.

“I thought your father never respected me because I came from less.”

Savannah shook her head.

“My father respected people who worked hard. He didn’t respect people who confused ambition with entitlement.”

Bryce looked down.

“I know that now.”

“Do you?”

He gave a bitter little smile.

“I’m trying.”

Savannah continue reading …