Douglas lowered his head. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, so faintly it was almost invisible.
The expression vanished in an instant, but I caught it.
Because I knew his games all too well.
Humble on the surface. Calculating underneath.
Ever since he'd joined the company six months ago, he had played the role of the gentle, considerate, reasonable man in front of Cheryl.
And whenever the opportunity arose, he found ways to undermine me, sometimes openly, sometimes behind my back.
"Ms. Delgado, Mr. Dickerson, please don't do this." Douglas's voice was soft, conciliatory. "Mr. Dickerson is probably just in a bad mood. I'll come back later."
The words said one thing. His feet said another. He didn't move an inch.
And just like that, Cheryl's heart went out to him.
She took Douglas by the arm, led him into the office, and sat him down on the sofa.
"Douglas, you're too kind for your own good."
"Drew is clearly the one in the wrong, and you're still making excuses for him."
"You sit right here. You're not the one who needs to leave." She turned on me, her expression ice-cold. "Drew, apologize to Douglas. Now."
I let out a dry laugh.
"Apologize? To him?"
I pointed straight at Douglas.