VANYA
“You can’t keep coming here every time Hadyn puts you on a chai ban,” Dejonae mumbles the moment the bell jangles over the door and I walk into the café.
“If that’s how you greet customers, it’s no wonder this place is always empty,” I say, sashaying to the counter and plunking my purse down. My phone vibrates with a new message. It’s from dad letting me know he got home safely.
Dejonae rolls her eyes. “This place is empty because the manager’s gone bankrupt.”
“Bankrupt?” I gasp.
“They’re about to shut the café down.”
“No,” I moan pathetically. “Who’s going to make me illegal chai?”
“You’ll have to find another dealer.”
“Since this might be a goodbye drink,” I slip a bill over the counter, “can you make this one extra special?”
She shakes her head slowly. “I worry about you.”
“And I appreciate that so much.”
With a scoff, Dejonae trots to the back to make my magic elixir. While the blender runs, I pick up my bag and walk to a booth. My heels click against black and white tiles.
I promised myself I wouldn’t touch a chai latte for another two weeks. Project Vegas is doing a number on my hormones and I’m gaining weight a lot faster than I anticipated. Drinking copious amounts of blended sugar and ice isn’t helping my case.
But I’m at my absolute limit today.
I need this.
“Here you go.” Dejonae appears like my fairy chai-mother and deposits a vat of chai on the table.
My eyes light up at the sight of it.
She purses her lips. “Why do I feel like I’m aiding and abetting a criminal?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. At most, you’d be called an enabler.”
“I feel so relieved,” she says dryly.
“Hello, my pretty.” I coo to the cup. Then I snap a picture of the giant chai latte. Posting it on my story so Hadyn can see that I’m intentionally going against his orders to not have chai before one p.m., I smile giddily. “Take that.”
“Are you okay?” Dejonae asks, looking carefully at me. “You look…”
“Bigger?” I fill in.
She scowls. “I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Why not?” I mumble, thrusting my straw into the cup. “Plenty of people are.”
I haven’t told the world that I’m pregnant, but that hasn’t stopped the paparazzi from making up their own stories about my weight gain. I’m trying to understand why my life and my size means so much to these people. It truly baffles me.
“You’re stunning, Vanya. I wish I was half as beautiful as you,” Dejonae muses. Her tone is wistful and I know she means that. Which proves that she’s crazy and blind because the woman is a knockout.
“Girl, you’re gorgeous. Stop with the self-loathing,” I say.
“You first.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t loathe myself. I just loathe the bottom-feeding tabloids who can’t keep my name out of their mouths. Last week, everyone was freaking out about an actress losing her gap teeth. This week, it’s me and my weight gain.”
“Screw ‘em.” Dejonae lifts her fist.
“Screw ‘em all.” I agree, pounding my knuckles into hers.
She laughs.
I really love that she’s so chill around me. The first time she recognized me as Vanya Beckford, I thought I’d have to turn my persona ‘on’ around her. I’m always extra careful with my words and actions around my fans.
But Dejonae isn’t a fan.
And I so appreciate that. I’m in love with her chai and need to keep her around.
Dejonae’s brown eyes drag to the window. “Where’s your stalker?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble darkly, giving the chai a couple more stabs.
I’ve been extra restless lately and it’s all Hadyn’s fault. After that night in the back of his truck, he completely checked out on me.
He quit being my assistant and now spends all his days out of the house. He texts me during the day, but it’s not like before when his tone was playful. Now, everything’s so serious. How are you feeling? Any morning sickness? Remember not to drink too much chai.
He comes home late at night and he no longer offers to watch a movie or cook dinner with me. He’s often so exhausted all he can do is fall into bed.
Then there are the phone calls.
Last week, at our doctor’s appointment, Hadyn’s phone was ringing off the hook. He kept stepping outside to answer. I kept glaring at him. The doctor had to instruct me to calm down so he could check my blood pressure properly.
I have no idea what’s going on with Hadyn these days. Is he seeing someone? Is he tired of me now that we’ve slept together a few times and he doesn’t know how to say so?
It’s insulting that he can’t be upfront about his disinterest in me. I knew the kind of man he was before I slept with him. To the great Hadyn Mulliez, women are a commodity. I’m just another notch on his bedpost and now that he’s got me out of his system, there’s no mystery left.
Does he think I’m going to latch onto him? Does he think I forgot we were just a fling?
My chest tightens painfully. I grab my chai and squeeze.
“Vanya, be careful,” Dejonae warns in a low voice as I dig my fingers into the cup.
I’m in control and Hadyn means nothing to me.
In fact, I’ll find another booty call. A better one.
“Vanya.” Dejonae calls my name a little louder this time.
Hadyn can move on to the next one too. I might do him a favor and introduce him to one of my friends. I’m sure he’d like that.
Dejonae shrieks.
I snap to attention just as a wave of chai latte spurts from the top of my cup and splatters all over the table. Tiny droplets hit my face like missiles. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon rises in the air.
I shoot to my feet. “Oh no.”
“Are you okay? Let me get you some napkins.” Dejonae hurries out of the booth.
I stare at my crushed latte. The entire side is misshapen.
Dejonae scurries to the table and soaks up the chai with a dish wipe.
“Let me help,” I say, feeling guilty.
She bumps the cloth to her other hand. “It’s okay. This is my job. Besides, you’re our café’s only VIP customer. I can’t let you do this.”
I stare down at her. Her hair’s in braids today with wooden beads at the end that clack together whenever she moves. Silver rings adorn her dark fingers, but one in particular catches my eye.
I point to it. “What’s that?”
“This?” She straightens and turns the ring around as a smile crosses her face. “This is a sibling ring. My sister bought it for me before she left.”
“It’s pretty.”
“Thanks.” She clears her throat and points to the shiny table. “All done. Do you want a refill?”
“No thanks. I’ll just drink what’s left here.”
She bobs her head.
The bell above the door jangles and Dejonae whips her head up to welcome the customer. Her eyes widen instead.
I peer around her to see what’s got her attention and spot Juniper.
Surprise ricochets through my voice. “Hey, how did you know I was here?”
“I saw your post.” Juniper flies past Dejonae. “We have a problem.”
“There’s always a problem. Isn’t that what I pay you for? To take care of the problems?” I wave him away. Right now, I’m only interested in not caring about Hadyn and finishing my chai.
Dejonae blinks a couple times and her dazed expression fades. Ducking her head shyly, she gets Juniper’s attention. “Would you like to order something?”
“I’ll have a coffee,” he says dismissively.
“Sure thing.” Dejonae brightens and hurries behind the counter.
I give Juniper the evil eye. “Don’t be rude. She’s my supplier. I need her happy.”
“You don’t have time to be sipping chai right now.” Juniper sweeps the cup away from me.
I gasp. “That’s rude.”
“Look at this.” He plunks a tablet on the freshly-wiped table.
The headline reads ‘PLUS-SIZED MODEL GAINS EVEN MORE WEIGHT. IS VANYA BECKFORD LETTING HERSELF GO?’
I roll my eyes. “It’s a classic tabloid move. How many of these have they written about me over the years?”
“This one is different.” He scrolls down to show me all the comments.
The anger coming from the keyboard warriors is excessive on this one. I’m used to being compared to animals, but this is my first time being called a ‘snake’.
“Things have never gotten this bad,” Juniper says.
“I know,” I respond shakily, grabbing the tablet and lifting it to my face. With a manicured finger, I scroll through the messages.
Dejonae sets Juniper’s coffee in front of him. “Don’t you usually get a load of support from the plus-sized community when haters crawl out of their dark holes?”
“She’s on shaky ground with them. Even her most obsessed fans have gone dark.”
“Why are they upset?” Dejonae blinks in confusion. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“She published healthy cookbooks.”
“And?” Dejonae arches an eyebrow.
Juniper glances impatiently at her. “They’re accusing Vanya of selling out. They’re saying if she was really satisfied with her size, she wouldn’t be touting weight loss recipes.”
I slap my hand on the table. “How many times do I have to say it’s not about weight loss? It’s about being healthy. Do you know how many skinny people have horrible diets and don’t take care of themselves? Everyone should eat better.”
“It doesn’t matter what your intention is. Only the way it comes across. And to the community, the cookbooks are coming across as judgmental.” He taps his fingers on the table. His eyes burn into mine. “This is why I told you that coming out as Vanya Scott and claiming those cookbooks under your modeling brand was a bad idea. People are sensitive about things like this and you threw a grenade on top of a powder keg. You’re losing the support of your fanbase, and it means you don’t have protection when things fall apart.”
I flop back in my seat, my nostrils flaring. “Can we take the article down?”
“Already tried. We threatened to sue for defamation.”
“And?”
He shakes his head wearily. “No dice. The article’s gone viral already. All the haters who were waiting on a chance to tear you down have an in. And they’re taking it.”
My hands tremble as I reach for my chai. “W-what’s the damage?”
“Two ad campaigns have been postponed.”
I grimace.
Juniper sighs. “That’s not the worst part. Madam Wong Fashion House wants to terminate the contract and pull down all your billboards.”
Dejonae gives me a worried look.
I shoot forward. “They can’t do that. We have no exit clause in the contract.”
“They’re saying that you’re tarnishing the brand. They want you to pay the termination fee.”
My shoulders wilt. If they succeed in suing me, I’ll be penniless. My cookbooks still aren’t doing well. The publishing company isn’t willing to offer a higher advance because of all the bad press. If I can’t sort this out, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
“Van,” Juniper takes my hand, “you know I love you. I do, but even I have noticed that you’re,” he pauses and seems to choose his words carefully, “not the same as before. If you’d like, I can get a personal trainer. Not to do anything dramatic. Just to tone up a bit.”
I slip my hand out of his. “More exercise is not going to solve anything.”
“Of course it will. Look, you and I might not agree with the rules of the game, but we’ve got to work with them if you plan to keep playing.”
“I’m not getting fatter, Juniper,” I blurt. “I’m pregnant.”
He goes completely still.
Dejonae covers her mouth in shock. “Oh my gosh, congratulations.”
“Y-you’re pregnant?” Juniper whispers.
“I was going to tell you, but then you had that emergency with your mother and we’ve been so busy lately… I didn’t have a chance,” I explain.
Juniper’s eyes light up. “That’s perfect! I’ll inform the press.” He takes out his cell phone.
A strange panic falls over me. I want to grab his hand and stop him, but something holds me back.
Business Vanya says I should tell the world. I can set the blame where it really belongs, on a body that’s shifting and morphing to prepare for a child. The positive comments will help my struggling brand.
Sure, there might be some fallout from my dad, but I can call him up and let him know. Juniper can take care of the rest.
“The father is Hadyn, right?” Juniper gives me a pointed look. “You haven’t been dating anyone else.”
“I… wait a minute, Juniper.” I snatch his phone from him.
“What are you doing?”
“A minute. Please.”
I take deep breaths so I can think. The tide will change if I reveal the truth about my pregnancy, but will it change in the way I want? A pregnancy announcement will stir up questions about the father. The tabloids will start digging into me and Hadyn. He’s going to get dragged into the spotlight next.
“Vanya, sweetheart, as your manager, I’m telling you that announcing your pregnancy is the way to solve all your problems. The public is going to find out anyway. In a few weeks, the baby bump will be too noticeable to hide.”
He’s right. If I throw Project Vegas to the wolves, I get to make one last mad scramble for my dignity.
“Are you ready to announce it to the world?” Dejonae asks me quietly.
I hesitate. Being pressured into telling the world I’m pregnant isn’t that big of a deal. And Hadyn’s a big boy. He can handle a little blowback from the public.
Do you want to be that selfish?
It doesn’t feel right.
None of this.
I set a hand over my stomach. Project Vegas has no one to protect him except me. If I announce my pregnancy now, my child’s privacy will be stripped away before it’s even born.
Dejonae squeezes my shoulder. I look up and notice her little nod of solidarity.
“Look, I don’t understand the world of the rich and famous, but I do understand what it means to protect someone. My sister is different. Because of that, life has always been a little more difficult for her. Way more than you can probably imagine. But things changed when she saw you. You gave her the courage to make her mark on the world when everyone was telling her she wasn’t good enough.”
I hang my head, blinking rapidly to hide the tears.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Dejonae insists.
“Hey!” Juniper lifts his hands in frustration. “This isn’t about me pushing her to do anything that’ll harm her. This is about damage control. The comments—”
“The loudest voices don’t always speak for everyone. I bet there are a lot of girls like my sister who’ve been inspired by Vanya.” Dejonae crouches in front of me. “Don’t give up. People are going to support you or they won’t, but at the end of the day, you live with your own choices. Make those choices for yourself. Not to please anyone else.”
Juniper rubs his temple. “What do you want to do, babe? I’ll respect your choice, even if it’s not the best one.”
I close my eyes, take all the hurt and pain and bury it in my heart with the rest of my fear.
Once my head is clear, I open my eyes and rub my stomach. I can’t control the world or keep Project Vegas from all the dangers that will be waiting when he or she arrives. That scares me.
But being scared has never stopped me from achieving greatness.
I’m a mother now.
And although it’s okay for me to get hurt, I cannot—under any circumstances—hurt my child.
Both Juniper and Dejonae watch me intently as I lift my head.
“Well?” Juniper arches a brow.
“I’m going to do what I’m good at,” I say firmly.
“What is that?”
“Modeling.” My eyes burn with purpose. “Set up a photoshoot for me. A nude one. And get a photographer who isn’t afraid of curves. I don’t want someone ‘touching up’ my photos trying to make me skinnier than I am.”
Juniper gawks at me. “Vanya.”
“This is my body. I won’t let anyone determine how I feel about myself. If they can run their smear campaigns, then I can run my ‘I don’t give a crap’ campaigns too.”
“I don’t think that’s the right move. You shouldn’t be exposing more of yourself to the public right now. It might ruin you.”
“I can’t help thinking,” I turn my gaze to the window, “that my kid might be bigger, like me. And one day, some idiot at school might make fun of her. She might come home crying. And she might look in the mirror and hate what she sees. On that day, I want to show her that I’ve been through the same thing and I didn’t hide. I didn’t let the opinions of idiots determine my value.”
“What if it’s a boy?” Dejonae points out.
I give her the stink eye. “Can you not? I’m trying to sound cool here.”
“Sorry.” She gives me a thumbs-up. “You’re very cool.”
“Vanya, this isn’t a game. There’s a lot at stake here. Your career can be over if you make one wrong move.”
“I can’t please the curvy community and I can’t please the rest of the world. So why bother? Why not do something for myself?”
He gives me a grim look. “Are you sure about this?”
“Book the studio, Juniper. I’m getting that photoshoot done. Today.”
I glide in front of the white background wearing nothing but a nude thong. My backside is hanging out. My stomach is jiggling. My steps are light and graceful.
The room goes quiet.
I suck my nerves back into my chest and take a seat on the cold ground. Juniper’s a genius, but the way he pulled all this together in only a few hours is nothing short of a miracle.
“Are you comfortable, Vanya?” Lorenzo asks from behind the camera. He’s a small, thin man with sharp eyes and a permanent frown on his face.
Despite his frosty demeanor, Lorenzo takes his craft seriously. It’s not just about the commercial appeal for him. It’s an art. He’s able to see and bring out the beauty in all of his subjects, whether they conform to the current beauty standards or not.
I don’t know what favors Juniper had to pull to get Lorenzo here on such short notice, but it must have been big. I should definitely give my manager a raise before I can’t afford it anymore.
“I’m ready,” I say, situating myself on the ground.
“You pose for yourself, yes?” Lorenzo asks, looking straight at me.
I nod.
“No story. No product. You show me your soul.” He lifts his camera. “And I will show the world.”
My breath thickens.
I nod.
I’ve done nude photoshoots before. Way earlier than most. In fact, the bikinis I wore in the beginning of my modeling career were so tiny I might as well have been wearing nothing.
Without shame, I open myself up to the camera.
A hush falls on everyone as the first snap goes off.
I elongate my legs, twist my body forward and cover my nipples with my hand.
Another shot.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins.
I feel both exposed and utterly free.
My eyes find the camera and I imagine that I’m speaking to the younger me.
You’ll be fine, Vanya. You’ve come so far.
Another shot.
The air is cold in the studio, but the warmth sets in as I get into my groove, working the angles of my face and body like a fluid dance. Every shift of my eyebrow, every exhale, every twist of my hips, I feel the rest of the world fade until it’s just me and the flashes of light.
The lens welcomes me back with a smile.
A friend.
A confidant.
My past. My present.
I’ve discovered so much about myself because of the camera. It showed me what it’s like to feel attractive. It showed me what it’s like to hate myself. It showed me my insecurities and my sorrows.
It showed me other people’s hearts. Cold words and photoshopped legs. A sucked in stomach. Advice—so much advice about what I should and shouldn’t eat. What I should and shouldn’t wear. Who I should and shouldn’t be.
I rise to my feet, slowly, still covering the sides of my breasts.
I’m not afraid of what the camera has to say about my jiggling thighs or my stretch marks or my stomach that protrudes a little too far. I’m not afraid of my Double Ds and the way they hang low.
Because the camera captures the truth.
The truth will set you free was mom’s favorite Bible verse.
I smile in victory.
It was a long, arduous journey, but modeling forced me to find my own conclusions faster than if I’d struggled on my own. The more I learned to accept the truth of who I am, of what I look like and the body I’m in, the more I realized that the camera wasn’t the problem. The pictures weren’t the problem.
I was the problem.
And that gave me so much control over my own head. Over my own happiness.
“Beautiful,” Lorenzo says reverently, his head tilted down and his eyes on the back of his camera. He thumbs through the photos. Tearfully, he looks up at me. “Beautiful.”
I smile and try to hold back tears of my own. “I know.”
The next day, I post the pictures and a few days after that, I get a call from Madam Wong’s Fashion House.
Juniper picks me up outside my apartment.
He gives me a nervous look. “How are you feeling?”
“Me? I could use some chai…”
“I’m serious, Vanya.” He hands me a cup.
I accept it. “I’m okay.”
Since I posted the photos on my social platforms, I haven’t looked at the comments. I asked Juniper not to inform me either. I posted those pictures because I’m proud of them, not because I need feedback.
“What’s Hadyn been saying about all this?” Juniper asks as he guides the car into traffic.
“We haven’t spoken much,” I mumble.
Juniper whips around in surprise. “You guys are fighting?”
“No, he’s just… busy.”
“Doing what?”
“I have no idea. I think he might be racing again. I overheard him talking about making a deal with Stinton Auto.”
When Hadyn saw me eavesdropping, he quickly shut the door. It hurts to know he’s keeping secrets from me. Even if we fought, he didn’t usually hide or shut me out.
“If Hadyn starts racing professionally, he’s not going to be around much,” Juniper says. “Maybe that’s why he quit being your assistant.”
“Yeah.” I wrap an arm around myself. “Maybe that’s why.”
Juniper gets the hint and drops the topic.
When we arrive at Madam Wong’s headquarters, he shoots me a firm look. “I’ll do the talking. If it’s too much to handle, you can leave.”
“Whatever they have to say is their opinion. I’m not afraid of it.”
He nods and shows me into the room.
Nancy Priskin greets us. The designer is wearing a simple sheath dress and delicate pearl earrings. Her face is so plastic she can’t even smile properly.
“Ms. Beckford. Welcome. I heard you wanted to speak about your contract.” She points to two chairs across from her desk.
Juniper and I have a seat.
Priskin folds her fingers together. “Let’s get to the point, Ms. Beckford, shall we? The board feels you no longer represent the look we’d like our Madam Wong ambassadors to have.”
“Ms. Beckford’s performance has been impeccable,” Juniper says. “She’s fulfilled every stipulation in her contract. She’s a testament to the fact that diverse bodies can make companies money.”
“She’s a gimmick, is all. You understand that we’re running a business, not a social justice organization.” Her eyes narrow. “The public at large do not want to see a woman with bulging fat and three chins on the cover of their favorite magazines. They want a fantasy. They want someone unreachable.”
I dig my fingernails into my hands to keep from speaking.
“We already took a chance on Ms. Beckford despite her unconventional appearance and size. Do you expect us to keep taking on more risks now that there’s more of her?”
I stiffen at her cruel words. “Excuse me?”
“The fact that you have gained weight is a problem. Being out of shape is nothing to be applauded, no matter what the fringe of shrieking banshees who know nothing about fashion and glamour would have you believe.”
Despite her poisonous tongue, her voice is low and cultured. “This brings me to my second point. You knew we were unhappy with the current state of affairs and yet, you posted a photo of yourself exposing all of your rolls and flabs to the world.” She spits out the words ‘rolls’ and ‘flabs’ like they’re terrorist organizations.
“And I would do it again,” I snap.
Juniper gives me a panicked look. “Vanya, let me handle this.”
I lift my chin. “I’m confident in who I am and I know I’m beautiful on the inside and the outside—”
“Your feelings have nothing to do with the facts, dear. Numbers don’t lie and that’s all I care about. Our sales have been falling all because you decided you had to have that extra cheese burger.”
Her condescending tone makes my nostrils flare. I’ve met people in the industry who hate me for the color of my skin and for my size. This isn’t my first rodeo with ignorance and I’m not afraid to work in the middle of a storm.
No matter how much photographers, directors and other industry members want to despise me, my body of work usually convinces them to keep me around. I know I’m good at what I do. And they tolerate me, with all my differences, because of it.
“I apologize for any damage my photos have done to your brand, but I will not apologize for the way I look.”
“Apologies mean nothing. You should have stayed quiet and hit the gym instead of parading naked on your social media account. You don’t deserve a medal because you’re lazy, Ms. Beckford. No one needs to glorify you because you lack self-control. Now was not the time to make waves or present yourself as some kind of victim. The real world is harsh and unfair. You are not to be coddled because you feel special.”
My jaw clenches. I’m starting to tremble from the effort to keep my temper.
Juniper sets his hand over mine. I’m not sure if it’s to keep me seated or to keep himself sane.
He speaks up. “We’re here to discuss business, not trade personal insults. I’d like to have a civil discussion, but it seems you’re unable to do that.”
“We’re here to discuss why Ms. Beckford was in violation of her contract.” Priskin leans back in her chair and looks down her nose at me. A puff of laughter leaves her thin lips. “I’m getting sick and tired of you models thinking you’re all activists. Because the world thinks you’re pretty, you believe you have meaningful things to say. Not so. We don’t pay you to have a message. Get on your soap box on your own time.” She waves a hand. “You are a mannequin upon which we place our precious clothes. And if you cannot have the decency to look after yourself and your appearance well then, we have no use for you.” She turns her chair to the side. “Madam Wong’s Fashion House is no place for pigs.”
It’s a gunshot to the chest. I hear my ribs cracking from impact.
Juniper slaps his hands on the desk and half-rises. “Now hold on just a damn minute.”
“Are you offended by my language?” She tilts her head. “My apologies. I thought you’d be used to it by now. Aren’t you bigger models always complaining about how hard you have it in this industry? Perhaps you can go soothe your pain by eating another slice of cake.”
My fingers curl into fists.
The door bangs open at the same time that I spring to my feet and yell, “Screw you!”
“I was just about to say that,” a familiar voice says.
The seething in the tone has both me and Juniper whirling around to face the door.
“Hadyn?” I gasp.
Hadyn stomps into the room, looking downright terrifying in a fancy suit and an entourage behind him.
“M-Mr. Mulliez,” Priskin screeches, looking like she’s about to disappear into her chair.
“Hadyn, what are you doing here?” I hiss. My gaze drops to his expensive jacket. “And why are you wearing a suit?”
He answers me, but he keeps his stormy eyes on Priskin. “I was here to renew a contract, but I’m glad I overheard your conversation before I signed anything. It saved me from making a big mistake.”
Priskin scrambles up and rounds her desk. “What are you implying?”
“Wasn’t I clear? Then let me make it crystal. As of this moment, our company is no longer working with your brand.”
She almost falls flat on her face. “Mulliez Media has always had a strong and mutually beneficial relationship with our fashion house.”
“Mulliez Media is under my control now,” Hadyn says. “And we don’t align ourselves with companies who verbally abuse their models and run out on their contracts at the first sign of trouble. If this is how you treat your own people, imagine how you’ll treat my company when we no longer serve your interests.”
My company? Since when did Hadyn talk about his family business like that?
“No, it’s… I was only joking. We joke like that. P-pig is a pet name.” Priskin throws her head back and cackles. It’s an ugly sound. “Right, Vanya?”
“Don’t you dare say her name,” Hadyn growls.
The designer shrinks back.
“Hadyn,” I mumble, trying to catch his eye, “I can handle this.”
Striding over to me, Hadyn grabs my hand and tucks me behind him. “Not a chance,” he says. Then he stares straight ahead. “Will.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Prepare a lawsuit against Madam Wong’s Fashion House for wrongful termination of contract, employee abuse, and… throw in something else. Make it a juicy cocktail. Have our lawyers deliver the suit tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” Will dips his head.
“Come on.” Hadyn grips my hand and drags me to the door. Before he leaves, he turns and stares Priskin down. “Oh, and we won’t be settling. Good luck in court.”
Without another word, he hauls me out of the room and into the hallway.
