She agreed.
Before ending the call, she asked whether I wanted to consider a negotiated resolution.
I hesitated.
The investor's company had resources.
Lawyers.
Relationships.
Political connections.
And enough money to sustain litigation for years.
A prolonged dispute could damage AVERY.
Delay production.
Threaten our cash flow.
And harm the very workers I wanted to protect.
I understood that.
But I also knew a settlement that ignored the underlying problems could leave everyone vulnerable again.
"I'm willing to discuss a resolution," I said.
The lawyer waited.
"But it needs to address the records, the garments, the workers, and the misuse of our label."
She nodded.
"Understood."
I took a breath.
"And I won't accept a payment in exchange for falsely saying nothing happened at the gala."
For a moment, she was silent.
Then she said, "I wouldn't advise you to."
I smiled faintly.
"Good."
My father called that afternoon.
He had seen the video.
Of course he had.
By then, half the people who knew me had probably received it from someone else.
He answered before I finished saying hello.
"Are you hurt?"
I closed my eyes.
"Just a sore arm."
There was silence.
Then he asked, "Did that man grab you?"
"Yes."
My father took a breath.
For a moment, I could hear anger in the way he exhaled.
Then he asked, "Are you somewhere safe?"
I smiled sadly.
"I'm at the office."
"Good."
He paused.
Then said, "I'm coming to New York."
"Dad."
"I'm coming."
I laughed weakly.
"You don't have to."
He was silent for a moment.
Then answered quietly.
"I know."
My throat tightened.
He continued.
"But I watched somebody throw money at my daughter while a whole room pretended that was acceptable."
I closed my eyes.
"And I want to see you."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I whispered, "Okay."
He exhaled.
"Good."
I tried to change the subject.
"How's Mom?"
"Angry."
I laughed.
"That makes two of you."
He gave a tired chuckle.
"Three, sweetheart."