I glanced back and forth from the boxes to Vincent, feeling my face grow hotter by the second. My stomach twists uncomfortably.
“What’s this? You're already packing up his office?” I finally managed to ask, my voice tighter than I intended.
Vincent looks at me calmly, his dark brown - almost black - eyes locking onto mine with unsettling ease.
“No. Andrew packed those things himself. He resigned from the company as CEO, got ridiculously intoxicated while clearing out his office, and then jumped from his balcony,” he says, delivering it all in a flat tone, sounding as if he’s commenting on the weather.
Did he really expect me to believe that? Knowing I’d worked for this company, knowing I’d been with Andrew for a time?
A bitter laugh escapes me, low and sharp. Anger bubbles up inside m
