"Do you actually think you're some kind of living saint? You've been leeching off this company for years. Isn't that enough?"
A wave of absurdity crashed over me, so overwhelming I almost laughed.
For years, every time Bertram hit a dead end, he'd come crawling to me like a spineless wreck, begging me to cast the cups and divine a way out.
When he needed me, I was a living goddess. When he didn't, suddenly he wanted to talk about logic and reason?
"Bertie, look at her. You've already exposed her, and she's still running her mouth." Tamara sauntered over and draped herself against Bertram's chest, her voice syrupy sweet.
"Why don't we call in Robin Lambert and the others for a face-to-face? That way she can't accuse us of ganging up on her."
Bertram pressed the intercom without hesitation.
Less than two minutes later, Robin Lambert walked in with several senior employees trailing behind him.
The moment I saw Robin, a flicker of hope sparked in my chest.
Two years ago, he'd been framed and saddled with tens of millions in bad debt. He'd been so desperate he was standing on the rooftop, ready to jump.