30. Tori
TORI
I barely remembered stumbling back through the maze of the office layout, or passing the security desk, or even walking out of the building. I was halfway down the block when I realized I was outside, the cold November air finally shocking some reality back into me.
I didn’t want to believe what I had heard.
That the renowned and highly respected KZ Modeling—Stefan’s family business, the one he’d given up everything in order to take over someday—was a front for sex trafficking.
And since most of the young women that the company employed were from other countries, that meant it wasn’t just local; it had international ties.
Who knew how far the network reached? How many women’s lives had been destroyed?
I felt sick, but I forced myself to keep it together and hailed a cab.
“Where you going?” the driver asked as I got in and slammed the door.
I was reeling. I needed to talk to my husband.
But Stefan was in meetings all day, and I knew he wouldn’t answer his phone.
And how could I explain this? Would he even believe me when I told him about what his father was doing, all the dirty dealings KZM was up to behind the scenes?
His agency was about to implode. His whole world was going to collapse.
I didn’t know what to do.
“Excuse me? You have an address?” the driver prodded.
“Yes, sorry, hang on.” I needed to come up with a plan.
I told the driver to take me to my father’s office there in town.
As we wove our way through the traffic in downtown Chicago, I texted Emzee with shaking hands.
I told her I had to cancel my KZM visit and gave an apologetic excuse about my lunch not agreeing with me, promising we’d raincheck soon.
Afterward, I texted Stefan just in case he checked his phone.
Something bad has happened, I said. If you get this, I’m at my father’s office. I tapped out the address and hit send. Then I tried to make sense of everything I’d just heard.
For blocks I just stared out the window, hardly registering which streets we were turning onto, attempting to think straight. But every time I thought I had myself under control and ready to explain everything to my father in clear, simple words, I remembered Konstantin’s words.
“You need to keep your pants on around the merchandise.”
“If you want to sleep with our models, you need to do what our other clients do, and pay...”
“It’s time you learned where our money really comes from. Those girls are our livelihood.”
“They’re not earning their keep on the runway—they earn it on their backs.”
Every word I recalled sent a shiver of revulsion and disbelief down my spine. Konstantin was despicable. He needed to be stopped.
Thank god my father was in town. I felt a twinge of hope.
He would know exactly what to do, and he would take action.
Forced prostitution was an international crime, a crime against humanity.
As a United States senator, my father would be able to pull in law enforcement and get KZ Modeling shut down.
They’d rush in and save those girls—those women—and send Konstantin straight to the International Criminal Court to be tried. I hoped he’d rot in jail.
The only relief I felt was that Luka had seemed as shocked as I was at the information his father had just imparted.
I couldn’t imagine that Emzee knew, either.
And there was no chance that Stefan knew about it.
He couldn’t. Even if he could be cold or callous sometimes, he wasn’t the kind of person who would ever allow something like this. Or participate in it.
Konstantin was the creep of the family, but he was also the one in charge of KZ Modeling.
The founder, owner, and C.E.O. All the criminal activity the agency was engaged in was clearly the reason he was so obsessed with maintaining control of the organization, not allowing any of his children to step in and take charge.
The prostitution side-business he was running alongside KZM’s legitimate work had to be his project. His and his alone.
I had to roll down the window, let the cold air shock my cheeks and ruffle my hair.
Just thinking about Konstantin and the way he’d always looked at me—like his eyes were skinning me alive—nauseated me all over again.
No doubt, he saw me the same way he saw his models: as a piece of meat.
Something he could use to serve his purposes and then discard afterward.
I was desperate to talk to my father. Desperate to expose Konstantin—to bring him to justice. Jail would be too good for him, but at least if he was locked up he could never hurt anyone ever again.
Just imagining the way he’d tricked these women, lied to them, offered them work and a career and a chance to make a life in this country—only to force them into his service.
He’d taken ownership of their bodies and used them, profited off of them in so many ways.
Without a second thought. I needed him far away and out of my life. Out of Stefan’s life.
Suddenly, I recognized the stone facade as we pulled up in front of my father’s office building. I fumbled as I paid the cab driver and then bolted for the doors. I needed to see my father. I needed to see him now. He would fix this. He would make it okay.
I could feel my hair falling out of its neat twist as I crossed the lobby. If I’d looked prim and put together at lunch, I was sure I was a mess now. When I glanced up and saw myself in one of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, I barely recognized myself.
Wide eyes, wild hair, no jacket. I must have left it in the cab. Or at KZM. I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was finding my father so he could deal with Konstantin.
In the elevator, I half-heartedly attempted to compose myself. I smoothed back my hair, re-twisted the knot and straightened my dress. My hands were still shaking, but I looked a little more presentable when I stepped onto my father’s floor.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on his door. I probably should have texted or called him to make sure he was actually in the office, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I had barely been able to make it here in the first place.
Thankfully, I could hear a voice, mid-conversation, inside. It was likely my father was talking on the phone. I thought about waiting until he was done before trying again, but I didn’t have that kind of time.
I knocked again. Harder.
“Dad!” I called out. “Dad, it’s Tori. I need to talk to you!”
He would be furious at me for interrupting him on a work call, but once he realized why I had barged in like this unannounced—and that this was truly an emergency, with lives at stake—he would understand.
He would be glad that I had come to him, that I had acted quickly.
After all, my father had run all of his campaigns on the basis of family values.
Of morality. Integrity. He would be horrified once he found out what Konstantin was doing.
There was only silence inside. Had he not heard me?
Was he in his office, pacing back and forth across the rooms as he took the call like he always did?
I kept knocking, feeling a little manic and a little desperate as my knuckles began to burn, the skin starting to break in some places.
But I didn’t stop. These women couldn’t wait any longer.
Finally, I heard footsteps coming toward me.
I felt like crying, I was so relieved. When my father opened the door, I practically fell into his arms. He stiffened, surprised.
It was out of character for me—I had never really been raised as the hugging type—but I just needed to feel safe and held at that moment. I needed my daddy.
“Tori? My god, what’s wrong? What is going on?” he asked, once I had pulled back.
“Something terrible is happening,” I said, stepping into the suite.
This wasn’t something that could be discussed out in the hallway, where anyone else could hear us.
This was a crime and a scandal. Not just for KZM, but for my father as well.
No one could know anything about it until we had figured out what to do next.
I waited for my father to close the door, his expression still more bewildered than concerned.
“You know I’m very busy,” he said. “Is this about Stefan? You two having problems?”
“No. Well, yes. Sort of. Look, I promise you, it’s important,” I said, my hands shaking, my head aching from the shock and stress of the whole afternoon.
I put a hand to my forehead, not exactly sure how to tell my father what had happened.
“What in the hell is going on?” he demanded, crossing his arms.
“It’s not Stefan. It’s Konstantin. He…I went to the KZM offices. I overheard him and Luka, talking about…they’ve been doing really bad things. Dad, you have to believe me…he’s a bad person. He needs to be stopped.” The words poured out of me, senseless and jumbled.
“You need to calm down and choose your words. Now one more time: What are you talking about?” His tone was placating, controlled as usual, but his body language was impatient. “You’re not making any sense.”
I took a deep breath.
“KZ Modeling,” I said, trying to organize my thoughts. “It’s not just a modeling company. It’s an international crime ring. And we need to do something about it. You’re a United States senator. You have connections. Power. You can get law enforcement involved and arrest him and take care of it.”
It had all been there. All in the open. I just hadn’t been able to piece it together fast enough. The horror and guilt washed over me afresh. No one else had figured it out either. What other horrible things were they missing? Was I missing?
I felt sick knowing that I was now, in some way, connected to what was happening behind the scenes at KZM. That by marrying Stefan, I was a part of his family, and would be associated with their activities and reputation.
And because of me, my father was a part of it too. He was implicated. It might even look like he’d had a hand in keeping it covered up. God, this could end his career. It would blacken his name.
The whole thing was a fucking disaster. Lives had been ruined, and the damage would keep on spreading like ripples in a pond. The fallout would be incredible. No wonder I could barely speak coherently about it.
“Those poor girls,” I went on. “They didn’t come here for this. They didn’t deserve this. Someone needs to help them. We need to help them.”
“The girls…?” My father was looking at me, clearly waiting for me to say more. Or to say something that made actual sense.
“The models! It’s a sex trafficking ring,” I blurted out. “KZ’s models are sex workers. And I think it’s against their will. That’s coercion, right? Isn’t that a felony? This is an international crime.”
There was a long silence. I waited for alarm and disbelief to appear on my father’s face, waited for his cry of outrage. I waited for…something. Any kind of reaction at all.
“Why are you bothering me with this?” my father finally said, his tone as cold as ice.
The floor dropped out from under my feet. With this?
I took a step back, studying his expression. There was nothing in his demeanor or body language to indicate that this was new or shocking information to him.
“You knew,” I choked out, my throat closing up.
“Of course I knew.” His tone was annoyed, as if we were talking about something as insignificant as my curfew, instead of the brutal, illegal dealings of the family I had married into. That he had coerced me into marrying into.
My stomach clenched, blood rushing to my ears. I backed further away from him, the room spinning.
He had known all along. This entire time.
Had that been the real reason he wanted me to marry Stefan?
Some kind of insurance policy, to prove his loyalty to Konstantin?
Or were they in this together? Associating with my father would have lent KZ Modeling an air of legitimacy, protected them against any accusations of wrongdoing.
Meanwhile, the agency could return the favor by offering my father campaign money and a network of political support. My marriage would have sealed the deal.
But if this was all true, then…
I heard movement behind me and turned to find Stefan standing in the doorway, his jaw clenched. It was clear he’d just heard everything that had passed between my father and me. And even worse, I saw resignation on his handsome face.
No surprise, no disgust.
He had known about the prostitution ring, too. He had always known.
My father-in-law, my father, and my husband were all involved in exploiting vulnerable women for profit, for the pleasure of rich, careless men.
As if their bodies were nothing more than shiny objects to play with, commodities to be bought and sold—and violated.
And I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about the whole reason they’d been victimized to begin with…
it was the same exact reason I’d ended up involved in this situation myself.
We’d all wanted a chance at a better life.
And we’d all been betrayed. Some of us had been hurt worse than others.
I knew that, compared to them, I’d been handed what looked like a winning lottery ticket.
But in the end, we’d all been forced into service, had been offered something that sounded like a dream come true and had instead found ourselves living in a nightmare.
I had never felt so deceived…and so trapped.
Just remembering the dirty money I’d spent on clothes and spa treatments made me sick.
I looked at the both of them, shaking my head. I had always known my father would go to any lengths to secure his legacy. His position of power. But I had never believed he would stoop to these levels to get what he wanted. I never believed he would be this corrupt.
And Stefan. The nights we’d shared together, the dreams we’d confessed. This was his dream? The company he’d spent years working himself to the bone to gain control of? The ‘path’ he’d self-righteously talked about forging?
I backed toward the door. I couldn’t stand to be near either one of them.
I had believed that by marrying Stefan, I would be free from the control of men like my father. That I’d be able to make my own way, on my own terms. Instead, I found myself trapped in a marriage—in a life—defined by lies and corruption.
And the worst part was, regardless of everything that had happened, and despite everything I now knew about Stefan…I still loved him.
Our eyes met, and in his cold green gaze I saw nothing but walls. I had no idea what he was thinking. His face was impassive, and he still hadn’t said a word. The man I’d give myself to, body and soul. The man I’d thought I would build a life with. This was the man I loved.
But I knew the truth now.
The question was—what was I going to do with it?