The photographer moved to block her path. “You’re trespassing. Security!”
Lee heard footsteps approaching fast. “Flora, we’re leaving.”
Flora’s eyes snapped open. She saw Lee and immediately tried to cover herself, humiliation flooding her face. “Auntie Lee! I—this isn’t—”
“She signed a contract,” the photographer said, clutching Flora’s shoulder. “She can’t just—”
“Let go of her.” Lee’s voice was deadly quiet. “Or every tabloid in the world will know exactly what Spyros Alexandros does with underage girls.”
The photographer’s grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t release Flora. Spyros and another man entered the room. “Flora, you don’t have to do this,” Lee said simply. Not angry or dramatic. Just true.
“But I—he said I could be—”
“You’re perfect.” Lee’s voice was steady. “And I love you.”
Flora’s façade dissolved completely, revealing the scared sixteen-year-old underneath. The photographer finally let go of Flora’s arm, and she pulled on her tiny sequined top, stepped into her skirt and tugged it up to cover her thighs.
“She’s here voluntarily. She wants this,” said the photographer, stepping between Lee and her niece.
Lee looked at him with deadly calm. “She’s sixteen. Get out of my way.”
“The drama is unnecessary,” said Spyros, approaching. “The girls are exploring their artistry—”
“I know exactly what this is.” Lee’s voice was quiet but powerful. She knew this script. She held up her phone, already recording. “And so will everyone else if you don’t move. Now.”
The men exchanged glances. Spyros muttered something in Greek to the photographer, who stepped aside. When Flora was dressed, Lee extended her hand.
Flora looked at it, then at Lee, but kept her arms wrapped around herself.
Lee nodded, accepting.
Flora nodded back, and together they moved toward the door.
Isabelle was smoking and sipping wine in the dining room. As they walked past, Lee paused, and Isabelle stood, spoiling for a fight. “We’re going home,” said Lee. “Are you coming?”
“No.”
“Suit yourself,” said Lee. “I love you.”
Something changed in Isabelle’s defiant expression—exhaustion making her shoulders fold inward. “Fine,” said Isabelle. She set down her glass sharply. “Fine, I’ll come.”
They walked out together, Lee between the girls.
Spyros and two other men blocked their path. “This is a misunderstanding,” he said. “The girls came here willingly. They wanted—”
Lee held up her phone, still recording. “Smile for my millions of Instagram followers.”
The men exchanged glances. One muttered in Greek.
“You’re making a mistake,” Spyros said quietly. “I have lawyers. I have friends in—”
“As do I,” Lee lied, her limbs trembling but her voice steady. “I’m expected on set tomorrow. If I don’t show up, my director knows exactly where I was tonight.”
A long moment passed. Finally, Spyros stepped aside.
In the taxi, Lee said, “Drive. Fast.”
Through the rear window, she saw Spyros on the street, phone pressed to his ear, watching their car merge into traffic.
