Chapter 27
SCARLETT
Tell her. Tell her what he did to you.
No. Protect yourself. You need to be careful, Scarlett. Now that Jace is the owner, you need to tread very carefully. You can’t be the sexual harassment accuser AND the woman who slept with the owner, for God’s sake.
I shifted in the chair across from Diana’s desk, my heart hammering against my ribs. Seven years of working together had taught me one thing: if anyone in HR could be trusted, it was her. I’d seen her fight for employees when no one else would.
“I need to ask you a question,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “Off the record.”
Diana set down her pen, giving me her full attention. That was another thing about her: when she listened, she really listened.
“You and I have worked together for a long time,” I continued. “I believe I can trust you with something off the record, even though you’re HR. But I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, so if you can’t field an unofficial question, just tell me.”
She leaned forward, concern flickering across her features. “Okay … off the record, what’s your question?”
I cleared my throat, weighing each word carefully. “Hypothetically speaking, if a woman experienced sexual harassment and came to HR, what exactly would take place after that?”
Diana’s body tensed with a micro-reaction that spoke volumes.
“Well,” she said, her professional mask slipping into place, “the official company policy is that any sexual harassment needs to be investigated thoroughly, and appropriate disciplinary action will be taken against the perpetrator.”
Oh, thank goodness. The relief lasted approximately half a second before her expression registered.
“But?”
She sighed, the sound heavy with years of experience.
“But, practically speaking, sexual harassment is … difficult to prove.” She met my eyes. “In my career, I’ve seen three instances of accusers come forward. All three of those accusers were on unemployment very shortly after their accusations.”
My jaw hit the floor. The room suddenly felt too warm, too small.
“How can that possibly be?”
Diana leaned forward, her voice dropping. “There’s always a supposed motive behind the accusation. Maybe the accuser didn’t get the raise they believed they deserved. Maybe there’s workplace conflict and it’s a way to reclaim power.”
Power. That goddamned word. My hands curled into fists.
“In any case,” she continued, “there’s always been reasonable deniability, lack of evidence, and an ulterior motive presented for why the accuser was making those claims.”
“So, let me get this straight,” I said, my voice tight. “One hundred percent of accusers have lost their jobs?”
“I’ve only seen three in my time here but … yes, I guess you could say that.”
“That can’t be legal.”
“People lose their jobs for all sorts of reasons.” Her tone was gentle but firm. “It’s not legal to terminate someone for making an accusation.”
“But it happens anyway.” My eyes stung with angry tears that I refused to let fall. Not here. Not now.
“The system isn’t perfect,” she admitted.
“Isn’t perfect?” I barked out a laugh. “It’s rigged.”
My mind spiraled back to that night Mom finally gathered her courage and called the police.
I could still see her trembling finger hovering over the phone, her split lip oozing blood onto her favorite yellow blouse.
I could still hear Dad’s smooth voice spinning his story about how she’d “fallen” while cleaning.
I could still feel the suffocating silence after the officers left, the way Dad’s footsteps echoed down the hallway toward their bedroom.
The next morning, Mom’s other lip was split too. She never reached for the phone again.
“I’m not saying it’s rigged, but we do have a long way to go.” She studied my face. “Is there something specific you want to tell me?”
I shifted again, my carefully constructed plan crumbling like a house of cards.
“What if, hypothetically, the perpetrator worked for the company that just bought us out?”
Diana shut her eyes, shaking her head slowly. “That would be … a very unfortunate and complicated situation. The accuser would have significant motivation to try to discredit a leader in the new ownership.”
“Who said anything about a leader?”
“The only people who have been here from the new company, thus far, are leaders.”
“Right.” I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. “Well, thank you for this hypothetical conversation.”
“Scarlett, wait.” The use of my name stopped me. “I care about you. And for that reason, I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t. If you repeat this, I could be fired. But I’m telling you because I want to protect you. Okay?”
I sank back into my chair, nodding.
“Tread carefully,” she said, each word measured. “The last woman who came forward wasn’t just unemployed. She became unhireable.”
“In the entire company?”
“In any company in Chicago. Maybe even farther. No one would touch her with a ten-foot pole. Once she made that accusation …” Diana trailed off, letting the implications sink in.
“So, basically, once you make an accusation, you’re like an infectious disease that everyone tries to avoid?”
“That has been my experience, yes.” She held up a hand. “Maybe that’s not the case every time. I can only speak to what I’ve seen. But from what I’ve heard, this company is one of the good ones. Three incidents in my seven years here says they don’t happen here often.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” The bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. “Well, this has been sufficiently demoralizing.”
“I didn’t say it was right—”
“No, you just confirmed what I already knew.” I stood again, slower this time. “A perpetrator can do whatever he wants and never be held accountable.”
“I didn’t say that. He might be held accountable, but from what I’ve seen, the accuser will go down with the ship.”
“Well, that’s just fantastic.” I winced. “Pardon my tone.”
“Scarlett—”
“Thank you for your time.” I met her eyes. “For the record, my anger isn’t directed at you. Thank you. I needed you to be honest with me, and you were. Seriously. Thank you.”
I walked out of her office, my legs somehow carrying me despite feeling like they might give out at any moment. Diana was good people. I trusted her. I’d seen her go to bat for employees like no one else ever had, so if she was telling me it was virtually hopeless …
What would I do? Was I willing to blow up my entire career just to try to take down someone who probably wouldn’t face any consequences anyway? And not just my career here, but my career in general. All for what? To try and root out one bad weed? And probably fail anyway?
History really did have a sick sense of humor. Mom tried to report Dad, and look how that turned out. Now, here I was, ready to report another monster, only to discover that some things never changed. The victims still paid the highest price.