The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(87)

Helena took a sip of water, and Rhiannon could practically see her brain racing. They hadn’t gone into this much detail in the green room, but Helena was a good journalist. The cameras were rolling, and a juicy follow-up to a sensational story had landed in her lap. “This isn’t common knowledge.”

“One of the survivors in the newspaper article, she mentioned having been employed when Peter harassed an executive. That was probably me. Most likely me. I didn’t think anyone noticed, at the time. The rumors he spread about me are still prevalent. I still meet people in the industry today, who, despite my accomplishments, believe that I’m dumb and lazy and a gold digger.” She thought about William. An executive of a well-respected company who had viewed her with contempt. “My reputation was solid gold before I dated that man. And then after I left . . . I was radioactive.”

“Did you take money to leave the company?”

“I need to talk to my lawyer about what I can and can’t say about my separation agreement.” She smiled faintly. “I would have been far better off financially staying at Swype than I was leaving it, if that’s what you’re asking. I received no financial benefit from quitting.”

Helena crossed and uncrossed her legs. “Why didn’t you sue him when he started harassing you? You also held a position of some power.”

Rhi’s defensiveness kicked in, but then she caught the encouraging, empathetic look on Helena’s face. The woman was giving her the chance to get the jump on those who would rip her story, and her, apart limb from limb.

The magnitude of what she was doing, unplanned, unrehearsed, with no warning to anyone, not even the people of her own company, made her want to throw up.

Too late. You couldn’t stuff a cat back into a bag. Well, you could, but there would be blood.

Anyway, she wasn’t a company or a brand at the end of the day. She was a person.

The last thing she wanted to do was bring up the pictures Peter had held over her head to get her to quit. There had been other reasons to quietly leave. “When you’re a minority, in any industry, you feel so visible, and like the only way to get ahead is to be tougher than everyone else. You don’t cry. You don’t show weakness. You can’t be a victim.” Even now, she flinched away from the word. Victim. It was wild how, at the end of the day, even language was an elaborate ruse to keep hurt people compliant. “Victim” implied weakness; if she claimed to be hurt, she was a victim; ergo, if she was a victim, she was weak.

Bullshit.

She hadn’t done anything wrong, she’d merely taken a chance on loving someone. She hadn’t harmed; she’d had harm done to her. That didn’t make her weak. Peter’s behavior reflected only upon himself.

Helena gave her a second to compose herself, and then prompted her. “Why speak up now?”

Rhiannon looked at the rapt young people in the front row again. “I assumed no one would believe me then. Times have changed.”

“It’s only been a few years. You think our society has evolved so much since you left Swype?” Helena lifted a skeptical brow.

“We didn’t have movements then, or hashtags.” Rhiannon tugged at the cuffs of her hoodie. The blue one, her best one. The one she’d worn on that rooftop with Samson, when they’d been silly and cuddled in a waterbed cabana, and he’d kissed her against her car. “Even then, I wouldn’t have said anything, probably, if I’d continued to believe I was the only one. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no benefit to me coming clean right now, like this, except it might help someone else.” She looked directly into the camera, the red light hurting her retinas, but she didn’t flinch away. “I read that article today, and I feel so awful, for anyone Peter hurt after me and before me. Thank you, to the people who put up their hands first, who made me feel safe enough to tell my story. I hope, if anyone else is out there, what I’m doing right now helps you.”

Helena’s lips thinned. “I hope so too. I think it’s clear how much workplace harassment has been swept under the rug for years.”

“I was lucky. I happened to have a friend who stepped forward and believed in me and gave me the capital to start Crush. If I hadn’t had her, my career would have been, if not over, at least severely set back. How many people can say that? How many brilliant minds have been suppressed because a toxic workplace ended their careers?”

Helena glanced at her producer, then back to Rhi. “Is there anything else you’d like our audience to know?”

Rhi twined her fingers together and summoned all her public speaking skills. Whenever she ended an interview, she did it with the knowledge that the sound bite she gave would be used again and again. She needed to close this out with something simple, but powerful. “I built Crush on the platform that the world needs more accountability. Peter should be held accountable for what he did. He shouldn’t be allowed to ever do that to anyone again. No one should. Every industry needs to be cleaned up, so we can all get back to work. Let’s start here.”

The crowd broke into applause as the taping wrapped, but the noise was filtered through a thick layer of Vaseline. Her brain was fuzzy, like she’d been enveloped in a fog.

She accepted Helena’s fierce hug and nodded when the other woman whispered in her ear. “I’m sorry. I believe you, and thank you. Please let me know what you need from me. I can put you in touch with a Times reporter or . . .”