“I told the truth,” I said.
Paige appeared beside him, her voice lowered. “Adrian, what is she talking about?”
He did not answer her.
That silence told her more than any explanation could have.
Years earlier, Hollis Transit had not been a fleet of buses with regional contracts and glossy brochures. It had been one rented van, a spreadsheet, and a man with ambition bigger than his savings account. Adrian had the charm to win clients, but no collateral, no credit, and no patience for paperwork.
I had all three.
My grandmother had left me a modest inheritance and a narrow brick house in Alexandria. I sold the house, cashed the bonds she had hidden in a metal recipe tin, and used the money to launch what Adrian called our dream.
At the time, it had been our dream.
