Chapter 5- The Lawsuit

The project!

I sit up instantly.

My assignment is due today.

Funny how serious I've become about my studies after everything that happened.

I thought I lost everything.

Not really.

Just my mind.

And I lost it badly.

Three years ago, I had a full Britney Spears-style breakdown and chopped off all my hair.

I couldn't stand looking at those blue strands anymore.

They reminded me of being treated as someone's replacement and then thrown away like a used condom afterward.

Even now, my nerves tense whenever those whiskey-brown eyes flash through my memory.

The memory of his hands still sends cold shivers through me.

So I cut off the one thing he loved.

My blue hair.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

My parents completely freaked out.

My mother cried when she saw me bald.

My twin brother became absurdly overprotective.

They dragged me through therapy, monitored me constantly, and even now they hate letting me stay alone for too long.

I miss my privacy.

I went from being one of the most popular boys in college to the most infamous.

Some people even thought I had cancer.

Thankfully, something good came from it.

Now I focus on studying, writing, and keeping myself busy enough to avoid thinking too much.

The ends of my hair brush softly against my neck as I tie it into a high ponytail.

At least it finally grew back.

I slip into a white satin shirt and black trousers.

Simple.

Professional.

Boring.

Perfect.

After gathering my project files, assignment papers, and stationery, my eyes land on the black steel pen Dakota lent me.

The pen is elegant.

A gold ring circles its center, while a silver clip engraved with the word Black rests along the top.

Expensive.

Just like him.

I carefully place it back on my desk.

A pen like that probably costs more than one of my organs.

Then I grab my phone.

And freeze.

Sixteen missed calls.

All from Carina Martin.

In the last ten minutes.

Shit.

I immediately call her back.

She answers before the first ring finishes.

"EVAN STONE!"

Carina's voice explodes through the phone.

"What the hell did you write?"

"I... what?"

Confusion hits me so hard my brain briefly disconnects.

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you plotting something against me by feeding me fake information? Because I swear to the devil, I will not let you breathe peacefully."

I blink.

Once.

Twice.

Still confused.

"I didn't give you any fake information."

"Oh really?"

Her laugh is sharp enough to cut skin.

"Then why is HighBar's legal team threatening to sue me for defamation against Dakota Black?"

The earth beneath me seems to tilt.

"What?"

My voice comes out barely above a whisper.

"I don't understand."

"They claim we published false information linking Mr. Black to illegal underground fighting rings and criminal activities."

My stomach drops.

"Wait... are you talking about the underground fights?"

"Yes!"

She practically screams.

"Where did you even get that garbage?"

"I didn't make it up!"

I pace around my room.

"He told me himself."

"Don't lie to me, Evan."

Her voice becomes dangerously quiet.

"I listened to that recorder three times. His answer isn't anywhere on the recording."

The blood drains from my face.

Because the recorder died.

The recorder died before that conversation.

"The battery died halfway through the interview."

I grip my phone tighter.

"I wrote everything down manually. Word for word. I swear."

Silence.

My throat tightens.

"But I don't know why he'd deny it."

"I don't know either."

Her voice sounds like an incoming tornado.

"But you'd better find out."

My breathing becomes shallow.

"What about my book?"

The question slips out before I can stop it.

Carina lets out a harsh laugh.

"You seriously think I care about your book while his legal team is tearing my company apart?"

My stomach sinks.

"Get me proof."

Her voice becomes ice.

"Get Dakota Black to confirm in writing that he said those things."

I stop pacing.

Every muscle in my body freezes.

"Or..."

The pause feels deadly.

"...I'll drag you down with me."

The call ends.

And for the first time all morning...

I truly understand how much trouble I'm in.

This has to be a misunderstanding!

Why would he sue the publication when they printed exactly what he had disclosed? Unless there has been a miscommunication.

My brain rattles from the left to right compartment of my brain while my veins thrum of unknown fear. I already signed an exclusive contract with Pegasus Publications and now my book is stuck with them under piles of legal cases.

"Oh God! What should I do?" I wait in silence like the heavens will answer to me in a booming voice from above, which obviously didn't happen.

I thought I exorcised bad luck from my life, but like an uno reverse card, shits keep on coming back to me at a speed I can't even detect its direction.

"Evan? Are you coming or not?" Ethan yells from outside as he waits for me on his rumbling bike. My brain runs slow and suddenly picks up the pace as I remember about my written submission and presentation of my project.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck-shit!

I pick my bag and my nervous as lizard body to leave for the college, for the sake of good grades. The presentation blankly passed above everybody's head and the professor asked me to prepare again, next week.

Whole day, I couldn't concentrate on my lectures as my mind kept on reaching out for my phone, reading updates of the fucked up situation caused by a single interview.

The whole internet is thrashing over the article. People are taking their I-was-born-for-this-moment frustration out on t*****r, scowling at the blog and calling Carina a scandalmongering bitch.

Now I am glad she didn't print my name.

By four in the evening, new articles publish on the internet, targeting Pegasus Publication for character assassination of the tech-tycoon.

I reach home with a panic attack. Sweat runs fresh from my forehead as I scroll through the hot topic of the day.

'Pegasus Publication charged with Three Hundred Thousand Dollars by HighBar System & Co. for printing wrong information through the means of their renowned magazine, InLook.'

I am so dead. Dead like dinosaurs's eggs.

In no time, the blame will slide on my head and soon these hungry tweets will turn into flesh-eating vultures, targeting my little ass which didn't even fully learned sarcasm.

My phone vibrates on the bed, and I glance down at the messages popping on the screen.

'Evan'

'I am losing patience'

I take a deep shaky breath as I see Carina's series of texts. My thumb slides over the keypad as I type nervously.

'I will find a way to fix this.'

The silence in my head is the only reply I get. I don't believe in myself either, but somehow, some way, I will fix this. I have to.

I wear my big-boy panties and straighten my steel spine. My pity party is over.

I need to meet him.

I need to meet this psycho dog and get those wires right in his brain about the misunderstanding he is suckling upon.

I push my phone into the deep gorge of my pocket as I walk down the stairs of my daddy's mansion. "Mom. I have an interview scheduled at the last minute with-a-um.. HighBar's company for my project. So, I'll be leaving right now before I get late."

I tell her my lies and she instantly wishes me best of luck with a kiss on my forehead. But with the past experiences, I know how best my luck is. It's like God sniffed cocaine before he decided to write my story.