Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
I never much cared about finding out about them until last year. After I got deep into starting my charity, the micro loans and the mentorships…I don’t know, I just wondered about them. I started to think differently, and I wanted to know my story. Their story.
Apart from locating my parents, George has also been tasked with digging up info on the other women who are bringing charges of sexual harassment. Until now, we’ve found no common thread between them, and precious little on my birth parents either.
“What is it?”
“Well, sir, it’s not much. This has to stay strictly off the record, you have to understand, but I had a friend at the justice department run your DNA through the system.”
“The justice department?”
He nods. “He turned up something that could narrow down the search area at least. He can’t give me much more as it would raise too many questions as to why the search was being run, and we also can’t be sure if the records will be sealed and therefore inaccessible, but it’s a start.”
“It is,” I agree. “Thank you, George. Where do we take that from here?” I question, but my mind is on Chastity.
“Well, it means I can start pulling court records, criminal records, newspaper reports and the like, anything that’s in the public domain. I’ll start scanning through for anything that could be a potential link, and we can start making inquiries. It won’t be cheap, there’ll be a lot of hours of work, but—” I wave a hand, the money not even an issue, and he nods. “That’s what I thought.”
So, someone close to me, my birth mother or birth father I would assume, has probably been on the wrong side of the law. Interesting. I know George will let me know if he finds anything else.
I open the file on Chastity that he’s prepared over the last couple of days—not enough time for a full comprehensive report, but enough for George to have a pretty clear picture of who we’re dealing with—and lean back in my chair.
I rub my jaw and fail to stifle the smile as I read.
There’s a short article in the Morgantown Review showing Chastity winning a baking contest in her high school. That means she wasn’t lying about her cake decoration adventures. She doesn’t drink and always orders the club soda just like mine when she does go out with her co-workers. How George comes up with all the info he does I’m not sure, but I trust it to be fact and relief is beginning to soothe the painful tension I’ve had since I left her apartment that night.
She has shown a knack here at Westwood for marketing and packaging products, as well as branding to appeal to the younger audiences.
She's trying hard to fit in and no one has anything but positive things to say about her.
I spread my fingers over the photos in the second manila envelope. Chastity’s outfit choices, stylish for the most part, but with a girly innocence woven throughout, just like when I met her at the club.
George also provided proof that Chastity is the creative lead behind some of the latest ideas Westwood has presented to clients assigned to her team.
Only, there’s no official record that she’s received credit for any of them. Her day consists of working on insignificant tasks, while her team takes official credit.
That’s fucking bullshit.
By the time I’ve finished flipping through the report it’s obvious that my fucking distrust of people has gotten the best of me when it comes to her.
I truly am a dick.
There is no sign she’s on anyone’s payroll. She wouldn’t be able to hide it from George. It’s illegal, but he accessed her bank records as well. Her computer at work and her laptop at home. He found nothing that would resemble a payoff or instructions on how to find me, where I would be that night...my likes and dislikes. Nothing. I realize with a sickening feeling that my own paranoia was the culprit fueled by all the betrayals I’ve been dealing with in the rest of my life. My pulse quickens with the sudden rush of guilt and anger at myself.
My girl deserves better. Better than me, and certainly better than this fucking job. I use the term job loosely, because I know interns don’t get a paycheck per say. A small per diem, not enough to pay for one lunch in this city.
Protectiveness surges through me. I want to go down there and personally throw every single member of her team out of my damned building.
My girl deserves to shine.
George might not have had enough time to come up with a full detailed history of her entire background yet, but he’s been thorough about his findings so far. Attached is a photo of the culprit behind all of Chastity’s ideas getting stolen: Sasha May. Senior account executive in charge of several of Westwood’s top clients.