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I’m surprised, but also not. Austin using any and all tools available to him, including information and information-collectors like Vanna, is right up his alley.
“End-to-end encryption’s useful that way,” Austin replies, giving me a pointed look. “You should look into using it with all your contacts.”
Message received, Austin.
“I just might. So, you want to know about the article?”
“I would,” Austin says. “So does my friend. He’s highly pissed off.”
“Join the club,” Vanna spits out. “I’m about ready to tell my editor he can stuff his contract up his ass, since they can’t hold their non-compete clause over me any longer.” She exhales loudly, her voice the slightest bit more controlled as she bitterly adds, “Potentially. My lawyer’s telling me to wait on that last bit.”
“What did your lawyer do?” Austin questions, and I hold my breath as if that would allow me to listen more intently.
“I wrote the article, just as your… friend stated,” Vanna says. “It was fire and brimstone type of stuff. I had it all backed up, the data, the evidence of embezzlement and fraud from what they did to my family, all of it on a flash drive that I gave to my lawyer for safekeeping. Four thousand words, a bit long, but goddamn, it felt good to actually be writing something deeper than who’s been fucking whom. And to get it out. To finally put the truth out there, threats from those pricks be damned. I turned it in to my editor, who read it and said it was good. Then three hours later, I’m getting called to the floor by him, telling me to rewrite it. I refused.”
“Someone got to him,” Austin guesses. Given how jaded Austin can be, he doesn’t seem surprised by that in the slightest.
I actually am, though. Vanna’s editor is a bastion of traditional journalism, having published articles on everything from war, to business, to exposés on the business of war. His reaction as compared to the article on the Faulkners seems out of proportion.
“Put it this way,” Vanna says. “I’ll give you three guesses as to who owns the bank that holds my editor’s mortgage, and the first two don’t count.”
I take a deep breath, pinching my nose. The fucking Faulkners. They have their damn hands in everything.
“So if you refused, how did it get rewritten?” Austin asks, holding up a hand, telling me to let him handle this. He knows what I need to know and how to get it. “It was your byline.”
“You think I write that level of drivel? Lady of Crows? Sharpe-edged? Fuck me, I was cringing as I read that the first time for myself. If I had to guess, probably Evan’s assistant or Bronson’s wrote it. Though either of them could’ve written it themselves.” Vanna hums as she considers that. “I’d put my money on Evan. It’s too personal for anyone else.” She mutters a curse I can't make out under her breath, then says, “My rep’s going to need some serious rehab after this debacle.”
“Can you prove this?” I ask.
Like a cockroach living through a nuclear attack, Vanna is a survivor. And though I don’t think she would play me, there’s an outside chance she decided to back the Faulkners and is the one who wrote the article, published it, and is lying directly to me now.
“If you want, I’ll email you my original story,” Vanna offers. “Anonymous drop box, of course. I’ve sent it to a few concerned parties already, just so you’re aware. This shit may be out in public, but the truth is whispered in private. I do have lawyers involved as well. They put my name on something I didn’t write or approve. There is a potential copyright issue.”
“Who was concerned?” Austin presses, and Vanna tsks. “A number of people who doubted the story and have certain matters with Evan. “The water always finds its level and the truth comes to the surface. This isn’t the first time there’s been an obvious smear where Evan’s been protected. It’s good, I think, to let the real article circulate in private circles.”
“Yes,” I agree.
Austin tells Vanna to be careful, to let him know if he can be of service, and then hangs up.
A few minutes later, Austin pulls up the file, and I give it a read. Even skimming the first few paragraphs, it’s a completely different story. “Those motherfuckers.”
“You were blindsided,” Austin says. “That’s not like you. Normally, you know that sort of weakness.”
“I….”
I can’t argue that fact because he’s right. I should’ve known about the editor if I was putting Vanna into play.
I’m too close to the problem, too desperate to see the angles clearly. But Austin’s not.
“What now? What would you do if you were in my shoes?” I ask him, and Austin lifts an eyebrow. “You only look at me like that when you’ve got something tosay that I won’t like.”
“You’re right, but you also know the truth,” Austin says. “Do nothing. This is lukewarm, grade-school shit at best, and by next quarter, everyone’s going to forget about it. Evan takes the win this time, but the battle isn’t over… unless you want it to be over.”
“If her lawyers?—”
“He said nothing that you could sue him over,” Austin advises me. “Maybe Olivia and Raven have a case, but that’d just drag them into the public eye, put names to innuendo. It’d be a disaster for them. Especially Raven. The stories about her were some of the nastiest. And the cost of it? Astronomical, and for what? You can only sue for money lost and it's not like you’re going to fire Raven over this.” He pauses.
I sit back, shaking my head. “Would you be able to let something like this ride, knowing that it’s hurt someone you care about and could hurt your own bottom line financially?”
