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“We never should have done it,” Damian mumbled into his closed fist. “The risk was too great.”
“This is confidential information,” Trace said, searing Francis with a look. “Heard?”
“Heard.” Francis had dropped all pretenses of joking or joviality. This was the stone-cold sober reality now. And it wasn’t pretty.
“If we hadn’t put a stop to it,” I told Francis, “it would have gone unchecked. And we have deeply personal reasons for working toward the complete obliteration of sex trafficking rings.”
A knot hit my throat, and I pulled out my phone again, eager to divert my attention before I completely fucking unraveled in front of Francis. He knew us—but he didn’tknowknow us. There was a limit to how deep the average person could pry. And right now, the list of people who’d made it that deep was pretty short.
I scrolled through the news outlets while Damian and Francis talked about the next steps with the lawyers. I needed to know what was being said out there. What people thought. How much of the truth might be circulating.
Whether we still had a shot at salvaging our reputation.
I scanned the trending headlines. We weren’t there.Yet. But when I moved to other social media outlets, the forecast was dire.
How the fuck did this happen? And why now?
I didn’t know the answers, and I might not ever. Unless I could personally corner the journalist and find some answers…
“Axel? Are you listening?” Trace’s voice held none of the usual patience.
“Sorry. I was checking headlines.” I guiltily stored my phone, but not before seeing the most damning comment of them all. Comparing us to Jeffrey Epstein. My stomach pitched to my feet. Sickening.
“Best we can get is a retraction,” Francis said, for what sounded like possibly the second time. “But they won’t publish it front and center. After all, they’re only obligated topublish—it doesn’t saywhere."
"So the damage is done," I concluded.
Damian raked a hand through his longish tresses. A low, terse sigh escaped him. “This is so fucked.”
“Beyond fucked,” Trace agreed.
“One wrong detail, and they publish an entire smear campaign.” I sat back in the chair, working my jaw back and forth. “I never got a call from anyone at Big Apple before they published this article. Did you guys?”
Damian and Trace shook their heads.
“So they publish this bullshit without even asking for a comment from us,” I spat, “much less an interview. We have no chance at a rebuttal. We just have to lie down and take this? This is ridiculous. We’re suing their asses.”
“Agreed. We have to stamp this out,” Damian said. “That’s the priority here. We’re not letting our name go under because of a twisted half-truth.”
“Let’s get this reporter on the phone,” I blurted. “We need to find out who his source was.”
“Do you have any idea who it could be?” Francis asked.
An uncomfortable silence spread through the room like a noxious fog.
“It could have just cropped up organically,” I said. “Maybe Yagel got busted for something again. Or maybe someone ratted on him, and he was trying to save himself by throwingusunder the bus. Or maybe…”
Damian’s gaze met mine, and it felt like a slap.
“Or maybe it’s Eli.” Damian’s words floated uncomfortably through the room.
I let a few extra seconds pass before I answered. “It can’t be.”
“Why not?” Damian challenged. “His wife is living with you. He’s got to be pissed.”
I worked my jaw back and forth. I took issue with his use of the wordwife. “Because there’s a more likely explanation. Eli has no idea about this and has no way of knowing. But Yagel has both knowledge and motive. He’s probably resenting us hardcore by now, seeing how much money we’re raking in on his brand.”
Damian relented, heaving a sigh as he nodded. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
