He nods to the file. "There are women in that file. All with very similar stories."
"Which are?" My pulse is thrumming, knowing exactly what he's about to tell me.
"Richard signed them. Promised them a lucrative book deal while selling them a story of how talented they were."
"Did he actually publish any of them?" My fists are clenched, chest tight.
"A few," Charles answers casually. "There's a correlation to the ones who slept with him. Though not all of them were actually published."
"Jesus," I groan, rubbing a hand over my face and shutting the file.
"So back to my question. Is this about Grace?"
Charles is probably my only friend. I should trust him. I want to think I do. But deep down, I've always found trusting people to be difficult. I can't remember a time when someone didn't twist my words back to me or use my secrets against me.
I shake my head. "No."
Charles is still staring at me like he doesn't believe me, but he doesn't push it further. He stands, rapping his fist on my desk. "Well then, it'd be a shame if someone put a stop to a guy like him." He's being sarcastic, confirming for me that he knows I'm up to something.
I drum my fingers on the folder, mind already calculating moves. Richard Caldwell thinks he's untouchable. Protected by his agency, his connections, his track record of silencing victims.
He's about to learn what real power looks like.
After Charles leaves, I open the folder again, committing names and details to memory. Seven women. Seven careers damaged or destroyed. How many others didn't come forward? How many gave up before even trying?
Richard Caldwell is going to pay for what he did to Grace. He's going to pay for every tear she cried. Every word she couldn't write. Every moment she believed his lies about her worth.
I pull up my contacts, scrolling until I find the name I need. Thomas Brennan, investigative journalist for The Times. We've worked together before, trading information when it suited us both.
Asher
Have a story for you. Interested in exposing a predator in the publishing industry?
His response comes within minutes.
Thomas
Always. What have you got?
Asher
Pattern of sexual harassment and assault. Seven victims willing to go on record once they know they're protected. NDAs that won't hold up under criminal investigation. An agency that's been covering it up for years.
Thomas
Send me what you have. If it checks out, this could be big.
I forward the file, then make another call. This one to a lawyer I know who specializes in employment discrimination and sexual harassment cases. She's vicious in court and has a particular hatred for powerful men who abuse their positions.
"Rebecca Hart."
"Ms. Hart, this is Asher Caine. I have a case you might be interested in..."
By the time I hang up, the wheels are in motion. Thomas will break the story. Rebecca will represent any of Caldwell's victims who want to pursue legal action. And I'll make sure they have the resources to see it through—legal fees, living expenses, whatever they need to not back down.
Richard Caldwell's career is about to implode.
And he'll never know who lit the match.
