Annika felt her cheeks get warm. Shit. This was a Time interview, not a reason to rehash the reasons she couldn’t be with Hudson. Not daring to look at either June or Hudson, she cleared her throat. “Yes, exactly. Our business philosophies are just completely opposite one another.” She attempted a smile and continued, “Yes, a business is about making money. But is that the only reason to own a business? Shouldn’t it also be about what you’re doing for the world? Shouldn’t it be about people, taking care of them and making sure they have their shot at happiness? Otherwise, what’s the point of anything? What is all of your money, all of your success for?”

“My success is so I can give back to the people responsible for where I am today,” Hudson said slowly. In spite of his measured cadence, one big hand was curled tightly around the arm of his chair, and Annika was a little afraid he’d crack the plastic. Why was he getting so bent out of shape, anyway? “It’s how I can tell whether my days on this earth have been worthwhile or not.”

Ziggy and Blaire broke out into spontaneous applause. Annika was less than impressed. So was he saying he was successful for other people? What sense did that make?

Annika leaned forward, her eyes flashing. “So how much are you going to keep giving back to them? Is it ever going to be enough? And, anyway, who says money is the definitive way to give back to the people who supported you along the way? Isn’t the way you treat other people, what you put out into the world, a bigger payment?”

Here, June cheered, much louder than Ziggy and Blaire put together. Annika smiled at her. Hudson glowered, his jaw set.

“Annika, how would you define success?” Emily grinned and crossed her legs on her chair, obviously enjoying the direction this was now taking. “At the end of your life, looking back, what would prompt you to say you’d been successful?”

Annika took a moment to think about it. “I would like to look back and think that I helped every single person who reached out to me,” she said, hastening a glance at Hudson. It was exactly the kind of romantic notion he’d generally ream her for. But right now, his grip on the chair had loosened and his face was free of derision. His expression was soft, thoughtful, considered. She looked away, back at Emily. “I would love to have a big stack of holiday cards or wedding invitations from happy couples who are together because Make Up gave them their second chance.” She blinked, her throat suddenly tight as she thought of the letter from the bank that was sitting in her desk drawer. She couldn’t let Make Up go. She wouldn’t let it go.