Chapter 23 Chapter 22:
Devon:
The moment I step into my office, I see Alisha waiting for me, sitting down on the seat facing my chair. She has her hair in a high bun, her lean body wrapped in an emerald green dress that barely reaches her thigh.
I remove my coat and place it on the edge of my seat. “Alisha, you need to leave right now, I have a meeting soon.”
She smiles, and steps closer. “Don’t be like this, Devon. We go way back, I do not deserve to be dismissed like this.”
I look her in the eye and her aqua blue eyes radiate with the same amount of competition. “I know what you are doing, Alisha. Was it you that sent someone to push Arya off that escalator?”
Her smile falters, a hint of surprise crossing her sky-blue eyes, but I see the way she hurriedly regains her composure, after all, it’s not hard for an actress to switch personalities.
“Why in the hell will I do that, Devon?” She bats her lashes, “we are friends, I wouldn’t harm you or Arya like that.” There’s an edge to her voice when she mentions Arya’s name, and the fact that Alisha’s trying to play me for a dumb person is quite alarming.
“There are two types of monsters in the world, the ones who admit they are monsters and the ones who don’t, putting on the disguise of an angel. Do you know which is worse? The ones that pretend they can’t hurt a fly.” I dig my arms into my pockets, turning to face her.
The rage starts to build in her eyes, reading people has always been my speciality, it’s easier to tell when someone’s lying than when they are telling the truth. There’s the narrowing of eyes, the slight hunch of their shoulders and the fear that temporarily flashes in their eyes.
“Why are you saying this? I am your friend!” She bursts out.
I tilt my head, walking towards the window, staring down at the busy streets of New York. “Are you really?”
I hear her sharp inhale of breath as she grasps her purse angrily from my desk and storms off, the door of my office angrily closing tells me she’s gone.
Daphne peeks into the room, before walking in. “I swear, she was on the block list; I don’t know how she managed to walk in here.”
I look over her shoulder to see Theo Duncan walking into my office with that entitlement that he thinks belongs to him, even without me saying a word at her, Daphne nods and ambles out, closing the door behind her, leaving both Duncan and I alone in my office.
“What do you want, Duncan?” I ask, sitting down to power on my computer. He looks up at me from his glasses, a faint but annoying smile on his face.
“Come on, Brookes. Just wanted to greet you.” He has that smugness in his voice again. “How are you doing with the election? Just a few weeks to the big day, huh?”
I know that Theo is only trying to get under my skin for reasons only known to him, but I can’t help but respond to him. “Butting heads with the higher-ups won’t get you anywhere, Theo.”
He cranes his head to smile at me, “Are we going with first names now, Devon?”
“You would do anything to get the CEO’s position, huh?” I ask, not breaking eye contact. “Stepping low because of greed is considered a cheap way of winning, Duncan.”
His face turns bright red, as he pushes up his glasses. “Well, if it means stepping low to become CEO, then I don’t mind one bit.” He smirks when he sees my frown. “How’s your girlfriend? Quite the character, I must say.”
My hands harden around the tip of the pen and I almost snap it apart. “Get out of my office, Duncan.”
He saunters out of the chair, “Calm down, Brookes. It was just a compliment; tell her I said hi, okay?” His smirk irks me out as he waltzes out of my office like he has the right too.
Suppressing a sigh, I check my phone, seeing if there’s any new messages from Xavier. He said he would contact me if he has any information on the guy that tried to push Arya, but for now, my screen has managed to remain blank.
I push through half of the day, with stress spiking me high. During my lunch break, I drive to Mrs. Winter’s coffee shop, the tiny door bell above the shop chimes as I step inside, the place is mostly empty, just a few college kids and a bunch of women huddled together in the window area.
I approach the counter, where a middle aged woman greets me with a bright smile. “Hey, I recognize you! You are that rich dude that my darling Arya’s mingling with.” Her eyes crinkle at the corner when she smiles at me.
She must have seen me the other day when I drop Arya off.
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
“Oh, look at you, so respectful, call me Mrs. Winters.” She gestures for me to lean in, and I do exactly as told. “Between you and that douche bag, Kevin, I prefer you. He acts immature a lot of time, always throwing tantrums. Can you believe he tried to trick Arya into not coming here again?”
My jaw hardens when I think about Kevin, he seems to be the only one that has been making me lose my cool.
She straightens, still staring up at me. “Okay, so. What would you like to have?”
I remember Arya saying that pumpkin spice was her favorite so I just go ahead and order it; she disappears into the back door and appears minutes later with a paper bag that contains my latte.
“I sneaked a bit of croissants for you.” She winks, waving me goodbye. Since I am parked in front of the coffee shop, I sit in my car and begin digging through the paper bag; I keep the croissants aside for Daphne and drink the latte.
As I drink my latte, I see Arya and her work friends. Her fall was minimal so she’s back to work today, she said the house was boring for her and she needed to get back to work.
She’s laughing brightly, her hair cascading down her shoulders. Even her laughter feels so joyful; it stings right in my chest. Her brown-haired colleague, Wanda is beside her, while the other colleague, Axel. I only met him at the time he was pitching the proposal to me. They huddle into the coffee shop and my heart races.
Will Mrs. Winters tell her that I had just been here? Does she even want me in Mrs. Winter's shop? It feels like I am crossing some sort of boundary, I am losing my cool. We are just co-parenting and nothing else. I am not supposed to know her favorite drink, or how she blurts out whenever she’s nervous or how her smile and laughter seems to be affecting me.
She’s making me lose the guard that I have spent my entire life building. I press my feet on the pedal, and drive out of the coffee shop.
Stepping back into the office, I don’t feel refreshed like I was supposed to; instead all the emotions are floating in my head, picking at me.
Daphne joins me in the lobby, with her tablet beside her.
“Can you reschedule another meeting with Arya’s team?” I ask, dismissing them in such a hurry last time now feels a little bit harsh. “Tell them to prepare in advance this time.”
“Okay.” Daphne replies coolly, but her eyes are twinkling and I can tell she wants to say something. Waving the paper bag of croissants into her face, she snatches it as we enter the elevator.
“Spill whatever is in your mind.” Daphne has always been an honest person, we started working together the moment I became CEO, replacing her would be an absolute terror.
“You don’t always give second chances.” She says, matter-of-factly and I can’t blame her, she’s right, giving people second chances is never something I do, so I even am surprised at the fact that I want Arya’s team to try again.
We reach the second floor and Daphne goes to her office while I go to mine, I settle down on my chair and begin working, the remaining half of the day usually moves on quicker than expected.
I am interrupted when Daphne barges into my office, her face morphed in panic. “Mr. Brookes, I think we could check the news.”
I grab the remote and switch on the TV. I stand up from my chair and stand in front of the TV. The anchorwoman is speaking, her voice professional and cool.
“Maryanne Anderson, a woman in her early fifties, the vice chairwoman of Brookes Technology and a candidate for the upcoming CEO position was reported dead last night by her best friend, who comes over every night for a round of board games. She was found in her bathroom, with her throat slit.” The screen fades to black before revealing Maryanne’s bathroom, where she is lying on her bathtub, eyes hollow as they stare up at the ceiling.
She’s wearing her favorite jumpsuit; the bathtub is soaked with her blood.
It is impossible to recognize her, her silver strands are plastered on her face; Daphne looks away as I listen.
“The New York PD are considering ruling this a homicide, her funeral is to be conducted this evening quietly after proper investigation, for further information, please visit-” I switch off the TV and massage my forehead, not believing what I had just heard.
Maryanne? Murder? Slit throat? Bathroom? None of it didn’t add up.
A feeling of unease spreads through me. Maryanne was a strong fighter, one of my toughest competitions for the CEO election and now she is gone when the election is just a few weeks ahead.
Suddenly, I remember Theo’s chilling words about how he would do anything for the CEO’s position. A chill runs down my spine, there’s always that ruthless gleam in his eyes, but this? Murder, Theo isn’t capable of it.
But, what if he is? What if I underestimated him? He did say he would do anything for the CEO’s position, but does that include murder?
Daphne excuses herself out of my sight, her eyes watering. She and Maryanne had always been close.
I could almost imagine the flashing red and blue lights outside her Upper East Side brownstone, the crime scene tape, officers swarming around, combing through evidence. What did they find? Fingerprints? A note? Something they hadn’t shared with the public yet?
This is going to be bad, we are going to have to call a meeting and vote whether we are going to postpone the election to give her a proper mourning. My phone vibrates on the chair, and I pick it, it’s Mr. Cole, he works in the managing department.
He and Maryanne had been close once, though rumors flew around that they were once lovers.
“Hello?” I keep my voice steady, despite the million questions flooding in my head.
“Mr. Brookes?” Mr. Cole says, his voice heavy. “Did you see the current news? They found a suicide note in her drawer, Maryanne Anderson committed suicide,”
Why can’t I shake off the feeling that the game has just begun?