“Maya! Richard! Get in here, now!”
Chloe Zhang, the network PR director, burst out of an adjacent office. She looked like a perfectly coiffed storm cloud in her crisp blazer, her eyes darting between Richard’s smirk and my fury-contorted face.
She grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong, and practically dragged me into the small, windowless office she’d just exited. Leo, ever vigilant, slipped in before she could close the door.
Richard lingered in the hallway, adjusting his tie, a picture of calm now that Chloe had intervened.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Chloe hissed, slamming the door shut. The room smelled faintly of stale coffee and fear. “Are you trying to sabotage the reunion special?”
“He’s a thief, Chloe!” I blurted out, holding up the tablet. “He’s stolen millions from my mother. He’s been defrauding me for twelve years!”
Chloe didn’t even glance at the screen. Her eyes were fixed on mine, cold and unyielding.
“We know about the discrepancies, Maya,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The studio executive team saw the initial balance sheet irregularities weeks ago.”
My jaw dropped. “You knew? You knew he was doing this?”
“Not the full extent, no,” Chloe said, waving a dismissive hand. “But there were red flags. Missing income statements, inflated expense reports. Enough to raise questions.”
She walked to her desk, picked up a fresh touch-up powder brush, and began to rhythmically tap it on a compact, avoiding my gaze. The casualness of her actions, juxtaposed with the enormity of her confession, made my blood run cold.
“And you did nothing?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“We couldn’t,” she said, finally looking up, her expression strained. “This 20th-anniversary special is a massive ratings driver. The ad revenue, the syndication deals for the reruns—it’s too important to the network. Bringing this to light now would kill the whole thing.”
“So you just swept it under the rug?” I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “You let him continue to steal from us, just to protect your bottom line?”
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “We warned him. We told him to clean up his books after the broadcast. But any on-air disruption… any public accusation, Maya, will violate your non-disparagement clause.”
She leaned forward, her voice chillingly calm. “A two-million-dollar non-disparagement clause, to be precise. You speak a word about this tonight, and your remaining income, every penny, goes straight to the network. You’ll be liable for the damages to our reputation.”
The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. The network wasn’t just enabling Richard; they were actively trapping me. They had known, chosen profit over justice, and now held my future financial stability hostage.
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