“I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you here, Mackenzie,” Jameson cuts in. “This could be a major downfall. These are wealthy men. They come from big families. Publishing this with no concrete evidence could be a death sentence of sorts. I want you to know that.”
My chest squeezes. “I have no other choice. What else am I supposed to do?”
“Listen, Mackenzie, from a professional standpoint, what you have written here, it isn’t enough. Hell, it’s not even enough for a trial. Want to hear my suggestion? Embellish the events. Sure, you’ve painted them out to be teenagers who might’ve gotten away with murder, but in order for this to work, they need to be monsters in the eyes of the media. People need to fear having them on the street.”
My brows pull down. “So, you want me to lie?”
“Embellish? Yes. Lie? No. But the good news is, whatever you write, people will be looking into the guys regardless. It won’t be good attention either. We’ve dug up stories that were buried and plan to use those to our benefit. Drug possession, domestic violence, family issues, and buried lawsuits. The King empire will be ruined. Their club? It will be done before it had a chance to really even take off. Baz King’s resort chains will drop in stocks. He’s the biggest gun we have to worry about. His lawyers have already been made aware of what’s happening. I think they’re waiting to see what our next move is before he tries to bury you and your story.”
The mention of Baz’s name, and the damage and destruction this is going to cause him have my chest tightening. My lungs seize, restricting air. How can I do this? Everything he’s worked for his entire life will be ruined.
My stomach twists, and I lean forward, clasping my hands on the table. “What if there was a possibility some of them were innocent? Is there any way we can shield some of them from being ruined to that extent?”
They share a look, amusement lighting their features, as they obviously think I’m naïve for asking such a question. “Listen, Ms. Wright,” the other lawyer, Baron McHugh, cuts in, finally adding his two cents. “Doing this? It has a possibility of ruining them. All of them. Guilty by association. He owns a business with the rest of them. Of course he’s going to be dragged through the mud.”
I work a swallow. “Well, Baz wasn’t even in town the night it happened. He’s mentioned in there, but I never mentioned him as one of them in particular.”
“That’s what we need you to embellish. We need to make him a ringleader of sorts. We take him down, the rest of them will fall.”
I choke, my stomach churning with hesitation. This isn’t what I wanted for Baz. He’s worked so hard for this. For those hotel chains. At what cost have I gotten my victory? Ruining his reputation and his life?
Marcus has me second-guessing everything. Even if I did have the truth, would I be able to make up some lie about that night to make him look bad, to get him in trouble with the law?
I shake my head, my gaze darting between them. “I don’t know if I can do that. I can’t lie. The whole idea was to write what I know, write what happened. I can’t do that. And what if we later find out what some of them are saying is true, and that they didn’t kill her? I’d need to make a statement, telling the truth, clearing their names, or at the very least, the names of the ones who are innocent.”
“Definitely not. Showing any media outlet that you had a relationship with any of them will look bad for you. And honestly, if you’re this unsure of who is guilty and who isn’t, you might want to regroup and think of the consequences.”
“But it’s common knowledge. Baz King and I together. How would that look bad?”
“Scorned lover. The works, that’s what they’ll paint you as. Don’t lose sight of everything we’re doing because you don’t want to hurt him. Who knows, maybe he had a larger part in things than he’s led you to believe.”
I grit my teeth. “I don’t know what to think anymore. Some things don’t add up where he’s concerned. What if he’s innocent?”
“How can you be so sure? Don’t you think it’s odd he took a family vacation the night your sister died? Those are his best friends. You mean to tell me they went nine years without telling him a single thing? I call bullshit. Something is missing from his story, and he’s not as innocent as he wants you to believe he is. You’re better off forgetting him. Lump him in with the rest before he tries to ruin you, too.”
I take a beat to process, trying to wade through the barrage of emotions swirling through me where Baz is concerned. After I come to a semblance of an agreement with myself, I nod, silently agreeing with him. “I still don’t want to lie. I want to put my story out there, but I want it to be the truth, my truth, not something fabricated for media likes.”
They sigh in unison. “I’m sure he expects you to remain true to your word. But as your lawyer, I advise against it. Things are going to get messy. Are you ready for that? Are you sure this is what you want to do, because once I go forward, there are no brakes. We’re either full steam ahead or we’re nothing.”
I work a thick swallow, trying to ignore the golf ball-sized lump lodged in my throat, hating that I’m going to do this to Baz. This is going to ruin him. His family. He’s going to hate me after this. But I can’t think about that because everything I’ve ever done, everything I ever worked for, might actually come true if I do this. It’s finally happening. Justice for my sister. Answers. We’re finally getting peace of mind, and maybe now, my sister can rest in peace.
My mind drifts to her words that night of the accident, and I wonder if peace is in the cards for me, too? I don’t know if that’ll be possible after this hits the fan, but one can hope.
The rest of the meeting ends swiftly, both lawyers obviously annoyed by my decision, but it was the lesser of two evils, and it’s the only exception I was willing to make. I value journalism and the truth behind the words, and I refuse to become a hypocrite, just to get someone to read my words or hear my piece.
With my hands stuffed into my coat pocket, I walk down the street, people-watching, letting my mind work through the events of the meeting and what this will possibly mean for the future. I jolt at the vibrating against my leg. My phone rings in my pocket, and when I glance at the screen, I know immediately who it is. Hitting answer, I bring the speaker to my ear and wince when I hear the voice.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Mackenzie? All I asked was that you stay out of trouble. That was all I asked. You’re so fucking lucky they put you in that mental institution before I could get to you.”
“Jack,” I groan. During everything that had happened, I had completely forgotten about my friend Jack and the role he played in my attempts to bring down the guys. Without his hacking expertise, there’s no way in hell I would’ve been able to fool Baz or any of the others as long as I did. I’d also probably be rotting in a jail cell if it wasn’t for his help during the break-in to Zach’s home in the Hidden Hills. “I’m sorry. Things got so out of hand, and I…God, I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“I’m not mad.” He sighs, obviously feeling bad for snapping at me. “I was scared. I thought you were fucking dead. Then I found out you were in a goddamn mental institution. Hell, I thought you were having lobotomies done on you and shit.”