I knocked again. Harder.
“Dad!” I called out. “Dad, it’s Tori. I need to talk to you!”
He would be furious at me for interrupting him on a work call, but once he realized why I had barged in like this unannounced—and that this was truly an emergency, with lives at stake—he would understand. He would be glad that I had come to him, that I had acted quickly. After all, my father had run all of his campaigns on the basis of family values. Of morality. Integrity. He would be horrified once he found out what Konstantin was doing.
There was only silence inside. Had he not heard me? Was he in his office, pacing back and forth across the rooms as he took the call like he always did? I kept knocking, feeling a little manic and a little desperate as my knuckles began to burn, the skin starting to break in some places. But I didn’t stop. These women couldn’t wait any longer.
Finally, I heard footsteps coming toward me. I felt like crying, I was so relieved. When my father opened the door, I practically fell into his arms. He stiffened, surprised. It was out of character for me—I had never really been raised as the hugging type—but I just needed to feel safe and held at that moment. I needed my daddy.
“Tori? My god, what’s wrong? What is going on?” he asked, once I had pulled back.
“Something terrible is happening,” I said, stepping into the suite.
This wasn’t something that could be discussed out in the hallway, where anyone else could hear us. This was a crime and a scandal. Not just for KZM, but for my father as well. No one could know anything about it until we had figured out what to do next. I waited for my father to close the door, his expression still more bewildered than concerned.
“You know I’m very busy,” he said. “Is this about Stefan? You two having problems?”
“No. Well, yes. Sort of. Look, I promise you, it’s important,” I said, my hands shaking, my head aching from the shock and stress of the whole afternoon.
I put a hand to my forehead, not exactly sure how to tell my father what had happened.
“What in the hell is going on?” he demanded, crossing his arms.
“It’s not Stefan. It’s Konstantin. He…I went to the KZM offices. I overheard him and Luka, talking about…they’ve been doing really bad things. Dad, you have to believe me…he’s a bad person. He needs to be stopped.” The words poured out of me, senseless and jumbled.
“You need to calm down and choose your words. Now one more time: What are you talking about?” His tone was placating, controlled as usual, but his body language was impatient. “You’re not making any sense.”
I took a deep breath.
“KZ Modeling,” I said, trying to organize my thoughts. “It’s not just a modeling company. It’s an international crime ring. And we need to do something about it. You’re a United States senator. You have connections. Power. You can get law enforcement involved and arrest him and take care of it.”
It had all been there. All in the open. I just hadn’t been able to piece it together fast enough. The horror and guilt washed over me afresh. No one else had figured it out either. What other horrible things were they missing? WasImissing?
I felt sick knowing that I was now, in some way, connected to what was happening behind the scenes at KZM. That by marrying Stefan, I was a part of his family, and would be associated with their activities and reputation.
And because of me, my father was a part of it too. He was implicated. It might even look like he’d had a hand in keeping it covered up. God, this could end his career. It would blacken his name.
The whole thing was a fucking disaster. Lives had been ruined, and the damage would keep on spreading like ripples in a pond. The fallout would be incredible. No wonder I could barely speak coherently about it.
“Those poor girls,” I went on. “They didn’t come here for this. They didn’t deserve this. Someone needs to help them.Weneed to help them.”
“The girls…?” My father was looking at me, clearly waiting for me to say more. Or to say something that made actual sense.
“The models! It’s a sex trafficking ring,” I blurted out. “KZ’s models are sex workers. And I think it’s against their will. That’s coercion, right? Isn’t that a felony? This is an international crime.”
There was a long silence. I waited for alarm and disbelief to appear on my father’s face, waited for his cry of outrage. I waited for…something. Any kind of reaction at all.
“Why are you bothering me with this?” my father finally said, his tone as cold as ice.
The floor dropped out from under my feet. Withthis?
I took a step back, studying his expression. There was nothing in his demeanor or body language to indicate that this was new or shocking information to him.
“You knew,” I choked out, my throat closing up.
“Of course I knew.” His tone was annoyed, as if we were talking about something as insignificant as my curfew, instead of the brutal, illegal dealings of the family I had married into. That he had coerced me into marrying into.
My stomach clenched, blood rushing to my ears. I backed further away from him, the room spinning.
