“I’ll put my headphones on. I won’t make a peep.”
I went over my talking points from last week’s meeting, then dialed in promptly at six o’clock.
“Leo is tied up, but I’ll fill him in after,” I said as everyone announced themselves.
Damian postured for the next ten minutes, aggressively pointing out all the weaknesses in our claims and calling Sterling an unsympathetic plaintiff.
“Despite all of that, I’m authorized to make the following offer of settlement. Mila will follow up with the full written proposal.”
The fund was offering $10 million cash and an assignment of future revenue from the four films until Sterling received the other $10 million. According to Damian, the fund planned to file for bankruptcy once it repaid the first $10 million.
It was a real, tangible offer. And the fact that it came in so fast meant the fraud argument had teeth.
“Thanks, Damian. We will discuss and come back to you. Of course, I must reserve rights on behalf of Leo and our client.”
Charlie threw a paper clip over as I drafted an email to Leo summarizing the settlement offer.
“So?” he asked.
“They made an offer. I need to see what Leo says. It’s half of what we were asking for, but it’s not small potatoes. We really want him to settle.”
Five minutes later, Leo’s assistant’s number came up on my phone. “I have Leo for you.”
She patched him through.
“Hey, rockstar. Did you just settle your first case?”
I laughed nervously. “I mean—we knew asking for the full $20 million up front was a long shot, right? But depending on how those films are released, he could maybe recover more than the initial $10 million.”
“Yes.That’s an excellent point, actually. We need approval over distribution of the films. They need to actually try to monetize them.”
I wrote downDistribution Approvalin big letters.
“Should we call Sterling? Let’s close this up, baby!”
I gave Charlie a thumbs-up.
The next day, I dove into the back seat of a black SUV, escaping a mob of paparazzi waiting outside of the federal courthouse.
“How do peopledothat?” I gasped, fully out of breath.
Andie was laughing hysterically. “It’s official. We’re buying matching outfits for the sentencing hearing and crossing every finger this happens again. I really hope those pictures end up online.”
Eddie had channeled his past life as a high-profile prosecutor and curated a plan for Andie to evade the inevitable media circus waiting outside after the plea hearing. We were both petite brunettes in black pantsuits and oversized sunglasses. I’d leave the courthouse through the front as a decoy while a car waited for Eddie and Andie at the back entrance.
The plan worked perfectly. As I walked casually down the front steps of the federal courthouse toward the black SUV, I was blinded by flashing lights and requests to make a statement. I went from defense attorney to indicted celebrity. It was one of those out-of-body experiences that felt worlds away from my past life. I had never felt more part of a team. We’d really been in the trenches together.
I texted Charlie from the car, half jokingly asking him to keep refreshing the internet for my picture. It was nearly five o’clock by the time the driver dropped us in front of the MetLife Building. Andie walked toward her hotel, and Eddie and I rode the elevator up to the fiftieth floor.
“I can’t believe it’s almost Thanksgiving,” I mused, wondering what it was about elevators that deadened my ability to make small talk.
“It’s unfortunate that her sentencing will be right before the holidays, but if we do our job right, she can at least celebrate dodging prison,” he said humorlessly.
Worst-case scenario, Andie was facing up to five years. Best case, she’d get one year of probation. She was choosing to plead guilty andaccept responsibility for her actions, something some judges took into account when weighing a harsher or more lenient sentence.
Charlie texted to say he had to leave unexpectedly and asked if I could log onto his laptop and reset his password when I got back. The firm made us do it manually from the office once a month for security reasons, and if you missed the deadline, you were locked out until IT came to physically unlock it.
I opened the laptop, typed his current password, “Brady_12,” and was suddenly staring at a blown-up screenshot of my face in sunglasses, looking down demurely toward the ground, with the giant headline:
