Page 122 of The Jack*ss in Class

“I like your abuela more every day,” Flynn said, grinning.

Catticus Finch, Attorney at Paw chose that moment to headbutt my hand, demanding attention. As I scratched under his chin, I realized I was smiling...really smiling, for the first time in days.

“So what’s next?” Hannah asked. “Did we miss anything?”

“I’m meeting with my agent this afternoon,” I said, the smile fading slightly. “There are... complications with the FlixNChill deal. I need to sort those out before I make any other decisions. Anyway,” I continued, “I need to decide if I still want to work with FlixNChill after this. The deal is incredible, but if I can’t trust them...”

“Trust your gut,” Bettie advised. “You’ve built this career on your own terms so far. Don’t compromise now just because everyone knows who you are.”

I nodded, gathering my resolve. “Okay.”

I planned to harness that, the advice from theKingman Queens to take up space, and my inner AbuelaNovela for this meeting.

“Absolutely not acceptable,” I said firmly, maintaining eye contact with Franklin Peters, FlixNChill’s head of development. “You promised confidentiality throughout our negotiations. That promise was broken, which means all our previous terms are now void.”

We were sitting in a private conference room at the Peachy Creek Four Seasons, where Gloria had arranged an emergency meeting with the FlixNChill executives. My agent sat beside me, uncharacteristically quiet as I took the lead.

Franklin looked profoundly uncomfortable. “Ms. Navarro, I assure you that FlixNChill takes this breach very seriously. Our internal investigation, well, we’re still determining exactly how the information leaked,” he hedged, adjusting his designer glasses. “These things can be complicated.”

“What’s not complicated is trust,” I countered. This was not something I was willing to just let go in the name of being a good girl. “I want to know who compromised my privacy and that there will be consequences before I sign anything.”

Beside me, Gloria suppressed a smile. This was not the meek, accommodating Tempest she was used to dealing with. But after years of hiding and the chaos of the past week, something had fundamentally shifted in me.

I was done being afraid.

“We understand your concerns,” said Melissa Wong, FlixNChill’s senior VP of content acquisition. She’d flown in from LA specifically for this meeting, which told meexactly how much they wanted this deal. “And we share them. The last thing we wanted was to jeopardize this deal.”

“And yet, here we are,” I said coolly.

Melissa exchanged a glance with Franklin, then leaned forward. “Ms. Navarro, Tempest, may I speak frankly?”

I nodded, bracing myself.

“Our preliminary investigation suggests this wasn’t just an internal leak,” she said, her voice dropping. “We believe someone close to you may have been involved.”

The statement landed like a stone in still water, ripples of shock spreading through me.

“What do you mean?” Gloria asked sharply.

“We’ve tracked a message on our end that appears to have come from a Colorado number,” Melissa explained. “It contained details about Ms. Navarro’s routine, her writing habits, specific campus locations. It’s information no one at FlixNChill would have had access to.”

I felt sick. Someone I knew had betrayed me? An envious classmate? A disgruntled sorority sister? A family member?

“Someone who knew you were Miranda Milan?” Gloria asked, frowning. She knew how closely guarded I kept that information. Until Flynn, only three other people besides her knew. And I trusted them all implicitly.

“Or someone who figured it out and saw an opportunity,” I said.

“We believe whoever called coordinated with someone inside our organization,” Melissa continued. “We’re close to identifying our internal leak. When we do, I personally guarantee there will be consequences.”

“That’s not enough,” I said, finding my voice again. “I need more than promises.”

“Which is why,” Melissa continued smoothly, “we’re prepared to offer you substantially improved terms.”

All I’d asked for was a resolution to this problem, not more money. Whatever they were offering wasn’t going to sway my decision.

She slid a folder across the table. “Additional creative control. Executive producer credit. An option on your next series, at your discretion. And a thirty percent increase in the overall compensation package.”

Gloria reached for the folder, but I placed my hand on it first.

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