She saw Owen emerge from the building holding Maya's hand. He didn't look back at the car. He just put his head down against the wind and walked in the opposite direction. Evelyn leaned her head against the window, gripping the plastic bag tightly in her lap. The flannel shirt smelled like him.
It was a sharp, grounding scent. For the first time in years, she felt entirely, terrifyingly awake. The fluorescent lights of the fourth floor were merciless. They buzzed with a low, oppressive hum that matched the tension in the air. Owen sat at his desk, staring at a spreadsheet of shipping containers that made absolutely no sense.
He had a headache born of sleep deprivation and caffeine withdrawal. He had skipped his usual morning coffee stop to offset the cost of Evelyn's Uber. His stomach let out a hollow rumble. I'm telling you, it was a blood bath. Todd leaned against the partition of Owen's cubicle, a smug grin plastered across his face.
He held a sleek steel travel mug, the aroma of expensive dark roast wafting over the divider, mocking Owen. Security said she was practically carried out. Todd continued, leaning in conspiratorally. Frank at the loading dock told accounting she was completely trashed, left in a cab with some random guy. The board is meeting at 10.
Richard is going to push for a vote of no confidence. She's done, Owen. The wicked witch is dead. Owen didn't look up from his monitor. He clicked a cell on the spreadsheet, highlighting it in yellow.
Oh, fascinating, Todd. What about the Q4 delays in the Seattle hub? Are we done with those, too? Todd scoffed, rolling his eyes. You have zero vision, Davies.
The whole company structure is about to shift. You need to stop worrying about shipping manifests and start thinking about who's going to be in charge by Monday. I'll worry about shipping manifests because that's what pays my rent. Owen replied flatly. And if we don't fix the rooting issue, it won't matter who the CEO is because we'll be hemorrhaging money on freight penalties.
Todd sneered, pushing off the partition. Whatever. Just have the Seattle report ready by 11. I'm not taking the heat for your department's mess. Todd walked away.
Owen let out a slow, controlled breath, resisting the urge to slam his keyboard against the desk. He rubbed his eyes. The image of Evelyn Mercer sitting on his terrible sofa, looking small and broken, flashed in his mind. He pushed it away. It wasn't his problem.
He had done his good deed. He was a nobody. She would go back to her penthouse, put on a new suit, and go back to not knowing he existed. 10 floors up, the atmosphere in the executive boardroom was entirely different. It was silent, tense, and freezing cold.
Evelyn Mercer sat at the head of the long mahogany table. She wore a sharp, immaculately tailored black suit. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun without a single strand out of place. Her makeup was flawless, concealing the pale, salow skin beneath. She sat perfectly straight, her hands clasped on the table.