“Hey,” I interrupt firmly. “You’re not responsible for his actions. This isn’t on you.”
Tears fill her eyes, but she continues. “Once we got inside, he offered me another drink. I didn’t take more than a sip. Something started to feel . . . off. His demeanor changed. He went from professional to flirty. He complimented my looks. Said he’d always liked brains and beauty. He even started playing with my hair, tugging at my twists and pulling me closer.” She shudders. “He . . . he pressed up against me. He was . . . hard. I felt gross, scared, but I just froze.”
“That happens,” I say gently, though I’m sickened with disgust. I can’t even imagine how difficult it is for her to relive this and for Chaz to hear it again. I don’t look at him, but I can feel his fury vibrating like a subsonic rumble in the room. “Are you okay to keep going?” I ask.
She nods, but her voice grows thinner. “He kissed me. I didn’t kiss him back, but I didn’t move either. Not right away. It wasn’t until he started touching me—grabbing my ass, his hands and mouth aggressive—that I snapped out of it. I shoved him away, dropped my glass, and tried to run. But he caught me before I got out the door.” Her breathing quickens, the panic of that night resurfacing. “He blocked the door and wouldn’t let me out. Called me a bitch and a cock tease. Said I knew whathe wanted, and if I didn’t give it to him, he’d blacklist me in the industry.”
My hands ball into fists. “What happened next?”
“I kneed him just like C taught me. He doubled over, and I ran out.”
Tears stream down her face as I grip her hands tightly. “You were so brave. You fought back.”
She shakes her head. “I was a mess. That woman—Laurel—stopped me. I told her what happened, but she just threatened me with the NDA, saying how I went up to the bedroom, that it’d be my word against his.”
My God. Laurel wasn’t just complicit; she was an accomplice. She was just as the complaint described, not by name, but by her actions.“Sophia, listen to me. He’s a predator, and so is she. You did nothing wrong. You don’t owe them your silence or your compliance. Nothing.”
“But I signed the NDA. I don’t have proof, and they know it.”
“The NDA doesn’t protect him from a crime.”
“A crime?”
“Yes. Quid pro quo sexual harassment is illegal. You’re not his first, but we can make sure you’re a part of stopping him.”
Her tears spill faster now. “But if I report it, he could ruin me. My name, my reputation, they’ll be in shreds before I’ve even started.”
I understand her worries. My heart breaks that she was ever put in this horrible situation.“You don’t have to decide anything now. But whatever happens, you’re not alone. We’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“That’s enough.” Chaz’s jaw sets in stone, his body coiled with tension as he moves in between us. Everything about him tells me he wouldn’t have left Marshall standing if I hadn’t intervened. But as he pulls Sophia into his arms, he softens, his hug steady and soothing in a way I’ve come to know well.
When he guides her to her room, I go to the door and slip on my coat, but I don’t leave. I can’t. I’m still rooted there in uncertainty when he returns. His gait is heavy, and the worry lines on his usually smooth brow seem deeper. I want to reach for him, run my hands up his chest, and bury my face in his neck. I want to hold him close and ease his strain somehow, but I’ve lost that right.
“You didn’t have to stay.”
While there’s no heat to his tone, it still hurts. My fingers tap a nervous rhythm against my thumb. “I know you don’t believe it, but I really do care.”
He looks at me, his eyes still lacking their usual warmth, but the hostility has cooled by several degrees. “You were good with her. Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t. I promise you I’m on her side.”
He doesn’t say anything. For a moment, we both just stand there. Our eyes meet. I can usually read him. Now I haven’t a clue.
“Chaz—”
“Not now,” he stops me, his voice low and rough around the edges.
I swallow all the things I want to say, holding back the tears that would be unfair to burden him with. “Call if you need anything. I’ll be at the cottage.”
He nods and holds the door open for me.
As I step into the cold night air, I glance back at him. I see it then. His expression is conflicted, a flicker of something unresolved warring inside him. It gives me the smallest ounce of hope as he watches me get into my car before he closes the door.
I’m wound up, my mind going a mile a minute. Everything that happened this evening plays on a loop in my head. I can’t do anything about Chaz right now, but I can do my best for his sister. I sit at the kitchen counter and open my laptop, typing out every detail she shared. I cross-reference her story with the anonymous employee’s account, and the descriptions match perfectly—almost too perfectly. The only difference is the reference to drugs that Sophia said she didn’t see. But everything else lines up. “He led a youngwoman of around twenty-two upstairs. They were gone for ten or fifteen minutes, and when the woman reappeared, she was frazzled. Mascara streaked her cheeks. One of Mr. Marshall’s employees stopped her and seemed to threaten her. I can confirm that Mr. Marshall lured the woman under the pretense of a business matter, but he was really attempting to exchange sexual favors for job-related promises.”
The timing of the complaint and the carefully scripted account give Sophia’s story credibility.But she didn’t have the presence of mind to write this. Was it Chaz? No way. An anonymous letter isn’t his style. In any case, a nameless complaint isn’t evidence. I need more to corroborate Sophia’s accounts.
How far back does Marshall’s harassment go, and how many people are involved in protecting and enabling him? Was my father one of them?
