Chapter 88 Not on Mi Watch
“Mi so glad we find somet’ing,” Leitana said, her bright eyes darting from face to face, sparkling with a mix of relief and curiosity. She didn’t know nearly enough about this glittering, cutthroat world they lived in, but she was eager almost hungry to learn. “So what we do now?”
Anya exhaled slowly, folding her arms. “Well, right now we know for certain that Celeste was being coerced into things she never wanted. Things no model should ever have to do.”
Leitana nodded thoughtfully, her gaze sliding to the seat beside her, piled high with scattered documents. She reached for them, but Lafu stepped forward swiftly.
“Let me,” Lafu said with a small smile, gathering the thick stack of files and moving them to another table already groaning under clusters of papers.
“Tank yu,” Leitana murmured, settling gracefully into the chair, her posture straight yet relaxed, like a cat claiming a sunbeam.
Her wide, earnest eyes flicked between them, ready to absorb every word. She leaned forward slightly, hands clasped in her lap.
“Mi hear Jim was her manager,” she said slowly, choosing her words with care. “And yu… yu were her…?”
Anya offered a gentle smile, leaning against a cluttered cupboard. “Booking coordinator. I handled her entire schedule, every shoot, every campaign, every travel day right up until March 2024, when she had that… breakdown and took a long break.”
Leitana’s brows drew together, curls tumbling over one shoulder. “Break? Why she need break? And what’s de difference between yu and Jim?”
Lafu gave Anya an encouraging nod, go ahead.
“The difference?” Anya repeated, her voice steady but laced with old frustration. “I was there to protect her time. I made sure shoots didn’t overlap, that travel was manageable, that she had rest days and recovery after long flights. If a brand demanded something unreasonable, I pushed back. I was on her side, always.”
She glanced at Lafu, who nodded again.
“Jim, on the other hand, at least after Maddie was gone. managers like him are supposed to steer the career: negotiate contracts, choose the right campaigns, build relationships with brands and sponsors.”
Leitana listened in silence, absorbing it all.
Anya took a deep breath. “As for the break… everyone knew Celeste had feelings for Ravial. It wasn’t exactly a secret. She’d say it in interviews, half-joking, half-serious: ‘Mr. Ashbourne found me on the street, gave me a chance, made me who I am.’ She truly believed he saw something special in her. And he did push her career hard, biggest campaigns, top photographers, international covers. She thought… maybe he felt something back.”
A flicker of unease crossed Leitana’s face, but she stayed quiet.
“Then March twenty-second, ill never forget that day” Anya continued, voice softening. “She missed a fitting. I went to her apartment and found her curled on the floor, crying. She’d finally confessed to Ravial—told him how she felt. And he…” Anya’s jaw tightened. “He shut her down. Cold. No anger, no warmth. Just, ‘I have no feelings for you.’ She said it made her feel stupid. He’d never led her on, never given false hope, but still, it shattered her.”
Lafu cut in gently. “I was there that night. She called me sobbing, said she needed space. Took a three-month hiatus. When she came back, her old manager, Maddie, had passed, cancer. That’s when Jim stepped in.”
Anya nodded grimly. “And everything changed. At first it seemed normal—big bookings, runway shows. Then suddenly, for two whole months, nothing. No jobs, no communication. Jim claimed she ‘wanted another break,’ but I tried reaching her, texts, calls, everything. Silence. Now, looking at these dates, these so-called ‘private retreats’… I think that’s when he started introducing her to certain ‘sponsors.’”
Leitana tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. “Sponsors? Like people who pay for things? Why dat bad?”
Lafu hesitated, choosing her words with care. “Normal sponsors are fine—big brands, luxury houses. They fund billboards, magazine spreads, runway shows. Models get gifts, clothes, trips. It’s part of the glamour.”
Stacy chimed in, voice low. “But some ‘sponsors’… they’re not interested in the work. They want private dinners, yacht parties, weekend getaways. Personal access.”
Diego finished quietly, “And if a model says no… her bookings dry up. Suddenly she’s labeled ‘difficult’ or ‘unreliable.’ Career over.”
Leitana’s hand flew to her chest, eyes widening in horror. “Yu mean… dey wan sleep wid her? For jobs?”
The room fell silent, heavy with the ugly truth.
Anya nodded slowly. “That’s what we’re starting to believe. Jim may have been offering her to influential men—politicians, investors, old-money types who ‘support’ the company. If she refused… no more work. And Celeste, after Ravial rejected her, was already heartbroken. Vulnerable. Maybe she felt she had no choice.”
Leitana shook her head fiercely, curls bouncing. “Mi Ravial no allow dat. Him would never let dat happen here.”
Lafu met her gaze, gentle but unflinching. “Nothing like that ever happened under Maddie or while Ravial was directly watching. Ashbourne Global was clean. Models rose on talent alone. But since Jim took over Celeste’s management… things got strange. And now these retreats, these clauses, it all fits.”
Leitana stared at the printed emails, the dates, the cold corporate language hiding something ugly.
“She really no free,” Leitana whispered, throat tight. “Dey trap her.”
Marco exhaled. “Exactly. And if she threatened to speak out or refused one time too many…”
Silence fell, heavy.
Leitana’s small fists clenched in her lap.
Then she looked up at them, her brow furrowed in thought. “But who dese sponsors, really?”
Lafu shook her head, lips pressing into a thin, frustrated line. “That’s the part we don’t know yet and it’s high on the list of things we need to dig into. Of course Jim knows exactly who they are, but there’s no way in hell that scumbag will give up a single name. He’ll protect those perverts with everything he’s got.”
Leitana felt a hot spike of anger surge through her chest, sharp and sudden. She drew a slow, steadying breath, shaking her head as if to dislodge the fury. “And now him handling another girl? Not on mi watch.”
Lafu and the others exchanged small, knowing smiles, warm with approval, and determination.
Then Marco spoke up, his voice cutting through the quiet like a spark. “I think I know how we can find out who these sponsors are.”
Leitana’s eyes snapped to him, wide and bright with sudden hope. “How?”
Marco’s grin was slow and sly, the kind that promised trouble for the right people. “Well, lucky for us, the model he’s managing now isn’t anything like Celeste. And she’s definitely not the tight-lipped type.”
Stacy’s face lit up as realization hit. She nodded quickly. “Oh. Getting those names is going to be a lot easier than we thought.”