“It’s not your fault.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
So there in the lobby of the place that had just thrown me away, I told her.
Not every detail.
Just enough.
The presentation.
The missed calls.
The client leaving.
Nick firing me.
Her expression changed as I spoke.
The softness in it hardened into disbelief, then anger.
By the time I finished, she looked like she was holding herself back from marching deeper into the office and setting the building on fire with her eyes.
“That man fired you for helping me live long enough to see my grandchildren again?”
I gave a tired smile.
“When you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
“It is bad.”
I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Well, what’s done is done.”
She studied me for a moment.
Then her face gentled.
“What is your name in full?”
“Sebastian Carter.”
“Sebastian Carter,” she repeated, like she was committing it to memory. “My name is Evelyn Parker.”
