"And now you burn the bridge the second you've crossed it? You let him steal my grandmother's life-saving money?" My voice cracked. "Are you even human?"
Something flickered in Beverly's eyes—just for a second—before her expression hardened into cold indifference.
"Vincent, could you please stop disgusting me with your little mystic act?"
"Those clients chose us because of our brand equity and our advanced management systems. You just happened to be there. That's all."
"You really think you're some kind of living saint? Haven't you leeched off this company long enough?"
A wave of absurdity washed over me so strong I almost laughed.
For years, every time Beverly hit a dead end, she'd come to me with flushed cheeks and desperate reverence, begging me to cast the sacred cups and divine a way out. When she needed me, I was a god. When she didn't, suddenly she wanted to talk about science and rationality.
"Bev, look at him." Dean sauntered over and wrapped his arm around Beverly's waist. "You've already exposed him and he's still running his mouth."
He smiled. "Why don't we call Manager Lambert and the others in for a little face-to-face? That way he can't accuse us of ganging up on him."