Hallstrom Group in shock as CEO dies by apparent suicide.
Montgomery’s death comes after numerous allegations of sexual misconduct. He had been asked to resign as CEO of Hallstrom Group, a prominent international brokerage firm headquartered in London.
This story is developing.
I walked into the living room and dropped onto the couch. My hands were numb. I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to get the blood to move.
I wanted to say something profound, something that matched the magnitude of the moment, but all I could manage was, “Shit.”
Luka’s chair creaked in the kitchen. “Why?” It wasn’t a challenge—just a pure, simple question, like he was asking why the sky bothered being blue.
I stared at the ceiling, tracing the abstract stamped pattern in the plaster. “I didn’t—” My throat tightened, and the roof of my mouth felt like sandpaper. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes and tried again. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
Luka’s footsteps were soft, padding across the kitchen tile, then the living room rug. He didn’t touch me—just stood close enough that I could feel his presence working the air.
The words on the screen kept looping in my skull: dead at his London residence, apparent suicide.
“Don’t.” Luka’s voice cut through the air, the sound so clean and cold it almost sanitized the room. “He didn’t deserve your energy before. He certainly doesn’t deserve it now.”
I caught his reflection in the dark television screen, a hollow-eyed figure in blue jeans, but what scared me most was the way his face had already reset itself, smoothing over like a pond after a stone.
I sat there, wound tight as a coil, watching Luka’s shadow tangle in the muddy gray light of my living room. My stomach was a pit, hollow and bottomless.
Luka didn’t try to comfort me, didn’t crowd me with platitudes. He just stood at the edge of the rug, arms folded, gaze fixed on me. Finally I found my voice, but it came out as a rasp. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“You have to promise you won’t get pissed.”
The corners of his mouth pulled up, but the smile died before it could surface. “Ask.”
“Did you…” My lips stuck to my teeth. I tried again. “Did you have something to do with it?”
He snorted, but it sounded more like a cough. “You think I killed him?”
I shrugged.
He looked at me, his eyes clear and flat as glass. “I told you—I’m not an assassin.” The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, would have made me laugh if my insides hadn’t turned to paste. “I’m flattered you think I’m that capable. But I’ve been here, with you, every moment.”
“It’s not a joke.”
He shook his head, jaw flexing. “I’m not joking.”
“But did you—” My voice knotted. “I don’t know. Arrange something?”
Another dry, mirthless chuckle. “I’d have done it better.” He crouched down in front of me, elbows on his knees, so our faces nearly touched. “But rest assured, even if that were my game, death is a mercy I would never give to a man like that.”