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WILLOW

I tap my fingertips on my desk as I wait for the clock to strike three in the afternoon.

I've been sitting here for ten minutes, waiting for this call to start while my heart slams through my body like it’s trying to escape.

To calm myself down, I snatch a peach ring that’s sitting in a bag on my desk and put it in my mouth.

When I glance at my screen again, I see Lilly staring at her phone.

We’ve been sitting here in silence with our microphones muted because we didn’t want the representative for Edgehaus Management to hear us talking about anything.

Since she has her camera on, I can see that she looks as tense as I feel.

Her blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she keeps playing with it as well as adjusting her position like she can't get comfortable either.

We haven’t met in person yet, but we’ve spent hours on Discord trading stories, breakdowns and helping each other name the things we used to excuse. It’s strange how close you can get to someone so quickly when you’ve both survived the same kind of manipulation.

It’s still hard for me to believe that we decided to do this. Part of me still can't believe Leo's management company agreed to hear us out. Maybe they’ll actually do something or maybe they're just covering their bases. I guess I won’t know until after this call is done.

I check the time again. Three minutes past our scheduled start. Interesting, but nothing too alarming yet.

My phone vibrates on my desk and I see it’s a text from Blaise.

Blaise: How are you feeling?

I don't answer because if I start typing to him, I might lose whatever composure I've managed to scrape together for this moment.

I nearly jump out of my skin when a soft chime indicates someone else has joined the meeting. This is it.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for joining today's call.

" The voice is polished, professional, but there's no face to match it. Just a black screen with the name “Dorian” in white text. How fucking rude is that? Especially when we are talking about a serious matter? And that’s red flag number one for me.

Another chime sounds.

A second name appears: “Talia Quinn.”

Her video turns on, but her camera is aimed just slightly off-center, like she didn’t expect to be on. She adjusts quickly, offering a small, polite smile that actually feels… human.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says gently. “Talia Quinn, Talent Relations at Edgehaus. I’ll mostly be listening in, but I’m happy to clarify anything along the way.”

There’s a pause. Not awkward, but just long enough for me to register the difference between how they just appeared on the call.

I glance at Lilly's camera feed and see her tilt her head slightly. I wonder if she’s picked up on the same thing I noticed.

"I'm Dorian from Edgehaus Management," the voice continues. There's something about the way he’s speaking that feels rehearsed. "I have Ms. Willow Sanchez and Ms. Lilly Voss on the call today to discuss some concerns that have been brought to our attention."

The way he says our names sounds like he's reading them off a script for the first time and makes my stomach drop to the floor. There's no warmth, no acknowledgment that we're real people who reached out because we needed help. I’m getting the vibe that we're just names on a document somewhere.

Talia doesn’t jump in, but I notice her expression shift slightly, but I don’t know her well enough to read it or her.

I unmute my microphone and say, "Thank you for taking the time to meet with us. We appreciate you hearing us out."

"Of course." Another scripted response. "Before we begin, I want to assure you that we take all concerns seriously and handle them with the utmost discretion. Now, I understand you both have some feedback regarding one of our talent's conduct."

Feedback. Like we're complaining about customer service at a restaurant instead of reporting sexual harassment and emotional manipulation.

"I think feedback is putting it lightly," Lilly speaks up. "We're talking about a pattern of inappropriate behavior that has affected multiple women. I’ve found out since I reached out to Willow that she and I aren’t the only ones."

"Yes, of course. I misspoke." But his tone doesn't change at all. Still that same professional detachment. "Please, go ahead and share your experiences. I'm here to listen."

Talia shifts slightly on camera. She still doesn't speak, but for some reason it’s reassuring.

I take a breath and launch into my prepared talking points.

I explain the timeline of my relationship with Leo, the way his behavior escalated from charming to controlling.

The messages that started sweet and became demanding.

The way he made me question my own judgment, my own reality.

“For example, when I was with him, he’d use personal details I’d told him in private to embarrass me in front of other people—friends, even viewers.

He’d turn it into a joke, so I couldn’t call it out without looking like I was overreacting.

It made me question my own reactions all the time.

He created this power imbalance and then made me feel like it was my fault for noticing. ”

When I finish, there's a pause that stretches too long, but maybe that’s just me. "I see. That sounds very concerning," Dorian says, but his tone hasn't shifted at all. "Ms. Voss, would you like to share your experience as well?"

Talia clears her throat. “If I may interrupt, Willow, thank you for telling your story. I know it’s not easy. Apologies Lilly. Please continue.”

It’s only a few words, and she keeps her expression carefully neutral, but something in her tone softens how tense I feel.

Lilly nods and begins her story. She talks about the late-night messages that became increasingly explicit, how Leo would alternate between love-bombing her with compliments and then tearing her down minutes later.

The way he'd demand photos and then make her feel guilty for hesitating.

As she speaks, I watch her hands shake slightly, and I want to reach through the screen to hug her.

"He made me feel like I was crazy for being uncomfortable with some of the things he said and wanted," Lilly says. "Like I should be grateful for his attention. And when I tried to set boundaries, he'd twist it around and make me apologize."

Talia looks down at something, before he looks back at the camera. “I’m really sorry you went through this.”

There’s a pause before Dorian speaks. "Thank you both for sharing. I can imagine this was difficult. We appreciate your bravery in coming forward."

The phrase sounds like it came straight from a PR handbook. I wait for him to ask follow-up questions, to request evidence of what happened, to show any sign that he's actually processing what we've told him.

Instead, he says, "We take these things very seriously, and we will review this information internally."

My instincts from journalism and how I like to do thorough research kick in. "What does that review process look like?" I ask, leaning forward. "Who will be involved? What kind of timeline are we looking at?"

"I can't get into the specifics of our internal procedures," he deflects smoothly. "But I can assure you that all reports are thoroughly investigated."

Red flag number two. He's giving us nothing concrete, no indication that our reports will lead to any actual action.

"Will Leo be informed that we've told you these things?" Lilly asks.

"That's part of our confidential process," he says. "We handle all matters with appropriate discretion."

"That's not really an answer," I press. "Are you saying he will be told, or he won't be told? Because if he finds out we reported him, there could be retaliation."

"I understand your concern, but I can't discuss the specifics of how we handle these situations. What I can tell you is that we follow all proper protocols."

“Willow’s point is valid. Transparency around outcomes does help prevent further harm. Even if names can’t be shared, patterns can be addressed,” Talia chimes in.

Dorian stops, but he doesn’t acknowledge what she said. Lilly and I exchange a look. This is going nowhere fast and I feel like we are getting stonewalled in real time.

"Can you at least tell us what kind of consequences he might face if you determine our reports are valid?" Lilly asks.

"I can't speculate on potential outcomes. Each situation is handled on a case-by-case basis. We will review this thoroughly, I can promise you that."

There it is again. "We will review this." Like we're filing a complaint about a defective product instead of reporting predatory behavior.

"What does thoroughly mean?" I push. "Days? Weeks? Months? And will we be updated on the progress?"

"The timeline varies depending on the complexity of the situation. As for updates..." He pauses. "Yes, we’ll be back in touch to let you know how this turns out."

I press the mute button and lean back in my chair, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

While it was slightly better than the rest of the bullshit he’s been saying, the "We’ll be back in touch" sounds like corporate speak for "we'll call you, don't call us.

" This guy could teach a masterclass in saying nothing while sounding official.

"Let me be more direct," I continue after unmuting my microphone. "Are you planning to take any immediate action to prevent Leo from potentially harming other women while you conduct this review?"

"That's...that's a complex question that would depend on the findings of our review process."

"So the answer is no," Lilly says flatly. "You're not going to do anything to protect other women while you take your time deciding whether or not we're telling the truth."