𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏

𝐒𝐈𝐗

My phone continues to ring, but I ignore it. I know it's my siblings and my friends, but right now, the last thing I need is social interaction. I've been reading the article since yesterday, and I haven't stopped since.

I didn't expect him to paint me as an angel or anything, but to refer to me, as a stranger who wouldn't leave him alone, kind of hurt.

I don't know why, though. I've known him for a month, and have interacted with him less than six times, mostly for sex. So I really shouldn't care.

There were parts of the article that hurt more than others because of the subtle microaggressive remarks.

I was unaware of who she was when she first approached me, she portrayed herself with such high class and articulation, which is unusual for people like her and people who usually work in places like these. As the night progressed, the exotic woman kept following me, and although it was flattering at the start of the night, I would never take her home, and her resilience to spend the night with me became worrying. In the picture that was released, I was trying to leave the club without appearing as rude. She followed me in her car for a while, until I finally lost her.

None of that was true, at all. This could be horrible publicity for the club and could lead to serious legal issues.

I know he doesn't care about me, but if I can prove that what he said was false and that he just bullshitted all through this, I could sue him.

And as soon as I turn on my phone and go on Twitter, I know that that's the thing I should do. Hela is trending on Twitter because people just love random people's drama.

My actual name has been released, as well as my club's address.

People think that I harassed him, and believe that my club has been making people pay for sex. I see multiple false stories being released about how customers have been at the club with friends, who then reported having sex with the girls.

Since when do people care about random people's issues enough to include themselves in it.

A random phone number calls me, and I answer without thinking. "Hela. . ."

I instinctively hang up the phone immediately, as I hear Alessandro's voice.

He calls again - multiple times - but I don't answer until I finally block his number.

I sigh, burying my head in my pillow and letting out a muffled scream that fills my room.

Calling my lawyer is my main priority, as I try to clear my name immediately, followed by calling my PR manager to try and do damage control for the business.

I finally answer my friends' and siblings texts, including ones where Nate informs me he's going to drop the internship.

At the sight of his text, I call immediately. Without any hellos, I set him straight. "You're not quitting the internship. Are you out of your mind? That's not happening."

"But the shit he said about you. . . I'll want to punch him every time I see him."

"It's not happening. Also, you told me you were going to start working with specific managers, and from what I've read, he's the CEO, so you won't see him as much, right?" My words seem to start convincing him. "Be smart and think about your future. I can defend myself."

•

Weeks have gone by since the article was released, and I've been in contact with my lawyers, and we've started the process of suing him.

As advised by my lawyers, I've been collecting all the evidence to prove I'm innocent, and that the article has severely affected business activity. Because of the bad press, some dancers have decided to quit and we haven't had many customers.

The lawyers are confident that we can win this. I don't care about the money I might receive if I win. I just want him to clear my name.

My dad's wedding is quickly approaching and I'm completely sure I'm not going. However, the twins are contemplating making an appearance, after some convincing from me. Our dad actually cares for them, so maybe they should think about it, without feeling the need to be loyal to me.

The doorbell interrupts my thoughts and I'm snapped back to reality.

When I open my door, I'm taken aback as I see Hanna intimidatingly confront Alessandro. Her five foot five self stands in front of the six-foot-five man, who seems to be actually listening to her words.

"I don't know who you think you are and what you think you're doing here, after what you've done, but you need to go before Angie gets here. If I could reach your neck. . . You'd be so dead."

I stifle a laugh, and finally, make my presence known. "You really should go, Mr DeLuca. You know this: if you have anything to say to me, you have to do it through my lawyer. I won't hesitate to file a restraining order." The two people in the hallway look at me, Hanna is proud of me for standing up to him, and Alessandro just seems defeated.

"Angelica -" I stop him.

"It's Hela. You knew me professionally as Hela, and that's what I'd prefer you referred to me as."

"Hela. If you'd let me explain. The shit that was said in that article. . . It wasn't -"

"It wasn't the truth," I start, "and I'm gonna prove that in front of a judge. Now, leave my home, Mr DeLuca."

I let Hanna in and watch Alessandro maintain eye contact with me as I close the door.

Maybe I'm being too hard on him, but right now, I want to, and need to protect myself, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.