Chapter 89 The Lamb in the Pasture
Leitana’s wide eyes darted from face to face, searching for answers, until they landed on Lafu. Recognition flashed across Lafu’s features like a light switching on, sudden, unmistakable.
“You mean Willow Rose,” Jules said with a soft, knowing laugh, shaking his head. “The new Glamour girl.”
Anya rolled her eyes, arms folding tightly across her chest. “More like the new drama queen. Willow’s been waiting in the wings forever, sharpening her claws. The second Celeste was out of the picture, she pounced. Jim’s been feeding her ego nonstop, front covers, luxury campaigns, red-carpet invites, the works. And she’s lapping it up like it’s her birthright.”
A faint, bitter smile tugged at Lafu’s lips. “She’s always been ambitious,” she murmured. “But this… this feels different. Hungrier.”
Leitana tilted her head, curls tumbling. “Who Willow Rose?”
Marco grinned. “Twenty-two, blonde, legs for days, mouth for miles. She came up the same year as Celeste, but always in her shadow. Everyone knew Willow was jealous, little digs in interviews, side-eye at events, posting shady quotes on socials right after Celeste got a big job. She never hid it. And now? With Celeste out of the picture and Jim managing her, she’s on cloud nine. Strutting around like she owns the place.”
Stacy snorted. “And she’s got the loosest lips in the building. Girl can’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. Brags about everything, who she’s shooting with, what designer sent her gifts, which VIP party she got invited to. If Jim’s already introducing her to the same ‘sponsors’ he pushed on Celeste…”
Lafu nodded grimly. “She’ll talk. She’ll want everyone to know she’s getting the special treatment.”
Leitana’s eyes widened, genuine shock rippling across her face. “Yu mean… him already doing same thing to her? Forcing her go private events?”
Stacy shrugged. “We don’t know yet. But Willow’s ambitious. Ruthless, even. She might be accepting it willingly, trading favors for bigger jobs. Or she might not realize what she’s getting into until it’s too late. Either way, if Jim’s running the same playbook, she’ll drop names. Sponsors, locations, dates. All of it.”
Leitana’s hand flew to her chest, appalled. “Why anybody do dat? Give body for fame?”
Lafu’s voice was quiet, tired. “Because most people will do anything for more spotlight, more power, more money. Fame’s a drug here. And some never see the cost until it’s too late.”
Leitana stared at the table, eyes distant. In her heart, a silent prayer rose: Papa God, dis world really corrupt. But mi try set tings better wid di life Yu give mi… before mi go.
She drew a steadying breath, then looked up, her resolve hardening. “We talk to Willow. Get names. Find who dese sponsors be.”
Marco nodded. “Smart play. She’s shooting downtown tomorrow, Jules, you’re on that set, right? Easy access.”
Jules grinned. “I’ll get her talking. She loves an audience.”
Diego leaned forward, tapping the encrypted folder on his tablet. “As for what’s in the box, those emails and rider clauses give us exact dates and vague locations: three retreats, yachts, and private islands. We cross-reference:
Firstly, Anya pulls Celeste’s travel reimbursements and flight manifests company paid, so there’s a record.
Secondly, Jules checks his raw files from any overlapping shoots, metadata, timestamps.
Thirdly, I dig into public records: yacht registries, island property owners tied to known Ashbourne investors.
Fourthly, We map who was ‘entertaining’ at those events, politicians, CEOs, old-money types who ‘sponsor’ the company.
No direct accusation yet just patterns. But once we have names matching those dates… that’s leverage. Real evidence.”
Stacy added, “And the digital stuff, USB and SD card we send encrypted copies to a trusted forensic guy I know outside the company. No risk here.”
Leitana nodded slowly, absorbing it all. “We careful. No rush. But we no stop.”
Lafu smiled faintly. “With you steering this… I actually believe we’ll get somewhere.”
Leitana’s cheeks warmed, but her eyes stayed fierce. “For Celeste. Mi promise her.”
The group shared a quiet, determined nod.
The map was drawn.
Now they walked it together.
“So welcome to your office,” Lafu said brightly, pushing open the heavy mahogany door with the polished brass plate that read CEO – ASHBOURNE.
The words died in her throat the instant the room came into view.
Valentina Rossi was seated behind the massive desk—legs crossed, perfectly manicured fingers resting on a stack of campaign proofs, lips curved in a satisfied smile as she spoke into the speakerphone.
“Today the campaigns for the spring line need to be finalized by….”
She stopped mid-sentence, head turning slowly toward the doorway. The smile slid off her face like melting ice.
The four junior assistants seated around the desk froze, eyes darting between Valentina and the newcomers. The air in the room turned thick and brittle.
Valentina rose gracefully, smoothing her tailored blazer, her expression shifting into something polished and razor-thin. “Lafu. And… Mrs. Ashbourne.” Her gaze flicked over Leitana with a cool appraisal. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
Lafu’s smile was sweet, but her eyes were steel. “Good afternoon, Valentina. I was just showing Leitana her office.”
Valentina’s brow arched, a soft, amused laugh escaping her. “Her office?” She gestured around the expansive space, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan, sleek modern furniture, the unmistakable scent of power. “This has been the executive office for the modeling division for years. Mr. Ashbourne himself rarely uses it, so naturally, as head of the division, I’ve made use of the space. Efficiency, you understand.”
She didn’t move from behind the desk.
Leitana stepped fully into the room, small and full of smiles in her simple sundress, curls tumbling loose, looking almost fragile against the corporate grandeur. But her voice was gentle, steady, and utterly unshakable.
“No,” she said softly, tilting her head. “Dis Ravial office. And now mi here for work. Mi no chase yu away, Ms. Rossi. Yu important. Yu stay if yu need. Mi find another place.”
Valentina’s smile tightened, a flicker of smug triumph in her green eyes. “How considerate. I’d hate to inconvenience the CEO’s… wife.”
The word dripped just enough venom to be felt, but not enough to be called out.
Leitana turned to the stunned assistants, offering them a warm, genuine smile. “Sorry for interrupt yu meeting. Mi no mean disturb. Yu continue good work.”
She gave a small, polite nod then simply turned and walked out, Lafu hurrying after her.
The door closed softly behind them.
In the hallway, Lafu’s voice was low and fierce. “Leitana, that office is yours. It has your name on it—literally. Everything that belongs to Ravial belongs to you. You don’t have to give her an inch.”
Leitana shook her head, curls bouncing, a quiet wisdom in her eyes far beyond her years.
“No, Lafu,” she said gently. “Mi no need fight for chair or room. Valentina already scared mi here. She feel threat. Dat enough for now.”
She smiled—small, knowing, serene.
“Mi no chase her out. Mi just be here. Quiet. Every day. She go move herself when she ready.”
Lafu stared at her for a long moment, then let out a soft, incredulous laugh.
“You’re terrifying in the sweetest way possible, you know that?”
Leitana blinked innocently. “Mi jus’ be me.”
And in that moment, Lafu realized: the lamb didn’t need to roar.
She just needed to stay in the pasture.
The wolf would come to her eventually.