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Another pause before Talia speaks up. “In some cases, we’ve recommended temporary suspensions or removed talent from brand-facing opportunities during active reviews,” she says carefully. “That’s not a guarantee, but... it has happened before.”

Dorian doesn’t respond immediately. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or caught off guard. Maybe both.

“That context is helpful,” I say. Because it is. It’s the first real thing anyone on this call has said that sounds remotely like accountability. And it didn’t come from him.

Talia glances sideways on her camera like she’s bracing for Dorian to shut her down. When he doesn’t, she sits back, but I can tell she’s not as comfortable as she was when she got on the call.

“That’s slightly misleading?—”

I interrupt whatever Dorian is about to say. “How is it misleading? Because from where I’m sitting, that sounds like a move in the right direction to prevent business as usual for creators like Leo who clearly have no issue harming women.”

There's a longer pause this time while he mutes his mic. It makes me wonder if he’s consulting his notes or getting advice from someone else.

When he unmutes his microphone, I do my best to keep my expression neutral, but what he says makes me want to throw something across the room.

"I want to assure you both that we take these things very seriously.”

The repetition of that sentence makes my skin crawl.

I try to keep a professional tone to my voice, but the struggle is real.

"You keep saying you’re taking this seriously, but you haven't asked for any evidence.

You haven't asked for dates, names of witnesses, screenshots or like anything that would actually help you investigate. "

"Well, we appreciate you sharing your experiences with us today," he says, completely sidestepping my point. "This information will be very helpful as we move forward."

"Helpful how?" Lilly jumps in. "You haven't told us anything about what moving forward actually means."

"As I mentioned, we will review this thoroughly through our internal channels?—"

"Stop," I cut him off. "Just stop with the corporate speak for a minute.

We're talking about a man who has used his platform to manipulate and harass women.

Are you going to do anything concrete about it, or are you just going to shuffle this into a file somewhere and hope we go away?

Because there are other avenues we can take, including going the legal route. "

There's a pause, and when he speaks again, there's a slight shift in his tone. Less polished, more careful. "I'd like to keep lawyers out of this if possible. We prefer to handle these matters internally when we can."

The threat is subtle, but unmistakable. He's essentially warning us not to escalate this legally while giving us nothing in return.

"You prefer to handle things internally," I repeat slowly, but then something clicks, and I decide to push on it.

"And how has that worked out for the other women who've reported him? "

Talia sighs but she doesn’t look away. She also doesn’t back Dorian up so he continues talking.

"I can't discuss other cases?—"

"So there are other cases." Lilly's voice is sharp. "You just admitted there are other women who've come forward about Leo."

"I didn't say that. I simply can't discuss confidential matters involving other individuals or clients."

“Okay, so where does that leave us?” I ask although I already know the answer deep down in my soul.

"As I said, we will be in touch once we've had a chance to review everything discussed today. Thank you both for your time, and we appreciate your bravery in bringing these concerns to our attention."

Talia opens her mouth like she might speak, but Dorian disconnects from the call. Just like that.

She stares at us for a couple of seconds. Then she looks directly at the camera.

“Thank you both again,” she says softly. “I’ll make sure that you get the justice you deserve.”

She hesitates just long enough for me to wonder if she means it. Then she nods once, and she’s gone too.

I stare at my screen in amazement because there’s no way that just happened. My hands are still positioned over the keyboard like I'm about to type something, but there's nothing left to say. The call is over.

Lilly's face is mirroring exactly what I’m feeling. Confused. Frustrated. Empty.

"Well," she says after a long moment. "That was..."

"Useless," I finish.

"I was going to say disappointing, but useless works too."

I lean back in my chair, replaying the entire conversation in my head.

On paper, it looked like everything it should have been.

Professional, scheduled meeting time, opportunity to share our experiences.

But underneath all the polite language and corporate protocols, it felt like we'd just been managed rather than heard.

"He never asked for specifics," Lilly continues. "No request for screenshots, no follow-up questions about dates or incidents. Nothing that would actually help build a case."

My fingers drum against my desk. "And the way he kept repeating the same phrases. 'We take this seriously,' 'internal review process,' 'appropriate discretion.' Like he was reading from a script."

"Because he probably was." Lilly's voice is bitter. "God, I feel so stupid for thinking they'd actually care."

"You're not stupid. We both hoped for better." But even as I say it, something sits wrong in my stomach. The whole thing felt choreographed, like we were being walked through motions rather than participating in a genuine discussion.

Lilly sighs on screen. "So what now? Do we just wait for them to call us back in six months with some bullshit about 'insufficient evidence'?"

I don't have an answer for her. Dorian’s parting words echo in my head: We will be in touch. But I doubted he actually would.

However, Talia’s words still lingered. “I’ll make sure that you get the justice you deserve.” She seemed as if she meant it and that we could trust her. That was and the fact that we did the right thing was the only thing I could hold on to.

"I need to think," I say finally. "Process all of this."

"Yeah. Me too." Lilly's image flickers as she adjusts her camera. "Thanks for doing this with me, Willow. Even if it didn't go how we hoped."

"Of course. We'll figure out what comes next."

After she logs off, I'm left alone with my laptop screen and the growing certainty that we've just been politely dismissed.

I close the browser window and stare at my desktop wallpaper as I run through the call again.

Nothing he said was outright wrong. He listened, he acknowledged our concerns, he promised to review everything.

But there was no urgency, no indication that our reports would lead to anything.

It was just the smooth, practiced language of someone whose job is to make problems disappear quietly.

My phone buzzes. Blaise again.

Blaise: How is it going?

I stare at the message, trying to figure out how to explain how disappointed and frustrated I am. How do you describe the feeling of being handled?

Me: Are you around? The call with Leo's management is over and I don't trust them.

His response comes immediately.

Blaise: Yes. Where do you want to meet?

I quickly type out the location where we should meet and grab my coat, phone, and purse. Before I head out the door I walk over to my closet and start digging through it quickly. It’s then that I find something I forgot I had until this very moment.

One of Blaise’s jerseys. I quickly toss it on the bed along with my other stuff just before I start removing the shirt I already have on.

Maybe there’s a chance I can salvage this day after all.