“I’m heading out,” I announce, gathering my notes and laptop.
Back at my apartment, I spread the evidence across my dining table. I have employment records, text messages, and sworn statements from Vanessa and two other former staffers. The picture they paint is damning but not entirely surprising.
Logan Carmichael, it seems, has a pattern of pursuing women who work for him—not aggressively enough to trigger immediate outrage, but persistently enough to make them uncomfortable. Suggestive comments. Lingering touches. Private meetings that could be explained away as professional, if not for the context.
And when they don’t respond to his advances? Gradualsidelining. Projects are reassigned. Eventually, reasons are found for them to move on.
It’s not Hollywood-casting-couch-level harassment. It’s more insidious, the kind of behavior powerful men have gotten away with for decades because it exists in gray areas. Because victims fear not being believed or losing careers they’ve worked hard to build.
I glance at my phone, feeling the guilt from the text I sent earlier.
JESS
Home late tonight. Working on a story.
And his supportive, understanding reply.
LUCAS
No problem. I’ve got work, too.
I need perspective.
JESS
Emergency girls’ night at my place. Wine and moral dilemmas. ASAP.
BLAIR
There in 30. Wrapping up Sophia’s new contract.
STELLA
On my way! Need snacks?
An hour later, my living room is transformed into the war room I desperately need. Blair pours wine while Stella arranges an impressive charcuterie board on my coffee table.
“Ok, spill,” Blair demands, handing me a generously filled glass. “What’s the emergency?”
I take a fortifying sip. “I have a story about Lucas’s father.”
Their expressions shift from curiosity to concern.
“What kind of story?” Stella asks, settling onto the couch.
“Sexual harassment allegations from former staffers,” I explain, gesturing to the documents now neatly stacked on my dining table. “Three women, similar patterns, credible evidence.”
“And Lucas doesn’t know,” Blair guesses.
“Not yet.” I run a hand through my hair. “I promised him in the Hamptons that I wouldn’t dig into his father’s affairs.”
“But this came to you,” Stella points out.
“Exactly what Dylan said,” I mutter.
“Is he filming all this for the documentary?” Blair asks.
“Some of it.” I grimace. “He caught my initial reaction when the story landed on my desk.”
