ADVERTISEMENT
” she whispered. “Just talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong.”
“What you did wrong?” Beatatrice laughed, sharp and cruel. “You were born wrong, sweetheart. Wrong family, wrong background, wrong everything. You were a mistake my son made when he was feeling charitable.”
“Mother,” Preston said flatly, “that’s enough.”
But he still didn’t move.
“No, it isn’t continue reading …
ADVERTISEMENT