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A half-smile formed on Mylee’s face. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t know the first thing about not having stuff?”
The dig felt personal, and I arched my shoulders. “Am I supposed to feel bad for being born into money?” I growled. “You can keep it. I get enough guilt from everyone else.”
“I’m not guilting you for anything, Paxton. I’m not your conscience.”
I grimaced and turned toward the mirror to adjust my attire. “You’re not my family, either.”
Mylee leaned against the railing and peered at me. “Are they hard on you?”
I smirked at her through the glass. “Crying to someone in your position about my family is… tone deaf,” I offered. “But yes, they were hard on me. Money and reputation always came first.”
She stared at me blankly, and I shrugged.
“Rich people problems,” I offered flippantly.
“Don’t do that,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“Don’t downplay your own pain because you think it’s a competition. We all have our burdens, our traumas. Yours isn’t any less significant because you didn’t go to foster care.”
“I guess you know about the background check,” I sighed.
Mylee shrugged. “You guys had to do your due diligence about me. Lincoln told me pretty early on what you knew about me.”
“You must think I’m a real asshole, complaining about my charmed life.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Paxton. We each have our crosses to bear. Would I have traded my life of no parents for parents who were constantly on my ass and making demands of me?” Mylee shrugged. “I don’t know if I would.”
My chest tightened as I stared at her, realizing that she meant every word she was saying. “You believe that?”
“That people suffer differently? Yes, of course. It’s not a contest.”
Where did she come from?
The intercom speaker crackled. “Uh… Mr. Webb?”
Mylee blushed, her eyes darting toward the cameras.
“At least he waited until we were done,” I commented before hitting the ‘speak’ button on the wall. “Yes, David?”
“I went through the security tapes and did a sweep of the building as you requested.”
“We’re coming out, David, hang on.”
I removed the stop from the elevator, and we exited the lift, my hand reaching for Mylee’s. Stunned, she accepted it, glancing at me like I was drunk.
“What did you find, David?” I asked, strolling toward the security desk.
The older guard shook his graying head and pointed at the screen. “Well, nothing, really, sir. I didn’t find anyone in the garage, nor has anyone used their pass to access the garage in the last hour.”
Mylee tensed. “Does that mean they’re still in the building?”
“Could be,” David agreed warily, but he turned the screen toward us. “However, when I went back to look at the time you were down there, I found this footage by the elevators, and…”
He showed the clip. Mylee and I leaned forward to look, frowning as we took in the wiry-looking figure in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, hiding his face.
“Who is that, David?” I demanded. “Rewind that.”
