I shot to my feet, shouting, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! There’s nothing here that belongs to this company!”
“If you’re being honest, then why are you so worked up?” His lips twisted into a smirk. “With someone as calculating as you, I can’t rest easy until I check for myself.”
He punctuated the remark with a kick to my cardboard box—only to freeze at what tumbled out.
A pair of pastel couple’s mugs rolled across the floor, one pink, one blue, our names printed on each.
The plush souvenir from our seaside trip tumbled out next, followed by a photo of us holding hands when we watched the sunset. The glass frame had shattered on the impact, the image split in two under someone’s shoe.
In that instant, whatever lingering feeling I had for him was completely extinguished.
The box held nothing but those small, personal keepsakes. The more they dug, the darker Cortland’s expression became.
That was when Thalia spoke up. “Saylor, don’t tell me you brought these on purpose—just to make Cortland feel sorry for you?”
Her words seemed to snap Cortland out of his brief hesitation. His face hardened, and he gave a cold, dismissive laugh.