Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO OWNED THE NIGHT
By eight the following morning, the video had reached the internet.
Claire learned this while standing in her kitchen wearing an oversized sweatshirt and holding a frozen bag of peas against her cheek.
Her phone rang.
Hannah.
“Please tell me you haven't opened social media.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Claire.”
“I haven't.”
“Good. Don't.”
Claire looked toward the window.
“Is it bad?”
Hannah hesitated.
“It's everywhere.”
Claire sat down.
“How everywhere?”
“National business accounts. Entertainment pages. Local news. Someone uploaded the slap, Roman intervening, and the part where you said you own the company.”
Claire groaned.
“Oh, wonderful.”
“There's something else.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Three major clients have called.”
She closed her eyes.
“Are they canceling?”
“No.”
Claire opened them.
“What?”
“They want to know if you're accepting new projects.”
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then Hannah laughed.
“Apparently, telling a billionaire to pay his invoice is excellent marketing.”
Claire pressed the frozen peas harder against her cheek.
“Please don't make that our slogan.”
“Too late. I'm considering merchandise.”
Claire laughed.
It hurt.
But she laughed anyway.
At ten, Lauren Mitchell arrived.
Lauren had been Claire's attorney since the company employed twelve people.
She was forty-three, sharp-eyed, and had the unnerving ability to make opposing counsel regret speaking.
She placed a folder on Claire's kitchen table.
“First, the assault.”
Claire nodded.
“We have video, witnesses, and the police report. The criminal investigation is separate from any civil claim you decide to pursue.”
“Okay.”
“Second, the contract.”
Lauren opened another folder.
“Crowe Hospitality owes C.W. Atelier four hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
“Yes.”
“Not including interest and contractual recovery costs.”
Claire stared.
“I thought you said we'd wait until Monday.”
Lauren smiled.
“I changed my mind.”
Claire raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“Because Malcolm Crowe sent me a letter at seven this morning.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
“What kind of letter?”
“A threatening one.”
Lauren slid it across the table.
Claire read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
By the third, her expression had hardened.
“They're accusing me of breaching confidentiality?”
“Yes.”
“For saying I own my own company?”
“Yes.”
Claire stared.
“That's ridiculous.”
Lauren nodded.
“Very.”
She leaned back.
“And useful.”
Claire frowned.
“How?”
“Because the letter makes several claims about the contract that contradict documents their own executives signed.”
Claire looked up.
“What documents?”
Lauren smiled.
“The ones you kept.”
Claire stared at her.
Then slowly smiled too.
For the first time in weeks, she felt the familiar excitement of a problem she knew how to solve.
Not a relationship.
Not an apology.
A business problem.
Something with facts.
Deadlines.
Contracts.
May you like
And consequences.
“Let's go to work,” she said.
Related Stories
