Page 17 of Reaper & the Lioness
Watching the stories I curated for my clients air on TV always sent a rush through my chest—even after all these years of working in PR. The two-minute story on ABC 13 was a far cry from the media placements I’d earned onGood Morning Americaover the years, but it was no less fulfilling.
Immediately after the story aired, my phone pinged with a text.
Rhetta: Nice work! Thane is thrilled.
Me: Happy to hear!
Rhetta: You should swing by the clubhouse next Thursday. We’re having a birthday party for Thane. Live music, open bar, BBQ.
Me: Thanks for the invite … I’ll think about it.
Rhetta: Get your introverted ass out of the house, or I will drag you out myself.
I laughed. Rhetta had hauled me to more parties than I could count in high school. Even though I always wanted to stay home with a good book, I had fun when she got me out of the house.
Me: Fine. I’ll be there.
I settled at my desk, readying myself for a virtual meeting with another of Hale’s victims.
Amy Sullivan had spent several years working at Abell Enterprises and left shortly before I was hired. She had an impressive background, having worked for some of the top executives on the East Coast. Former colleagues on LinkedIn raved about her ability to solve problems, manage difficult schedules, and multitask. She seemed like the kind of person you’d want at your side if you led a multimillion-dollar company. It was probably why they’d recruited her.
As I waited for Amy to join the call, a familiar knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I’d agreed to this one without a second thought, but I hesitated in these moments before the discussions. I straightened my ink pens and notepads on my desk to steady my nerves. Each interview dredged up memories of my time working at Abell Enterprises, a torturous form of exposure therapy.
I hated how listening to others recount their experiences under Hale’s tyrannical management made my heart thunder. While my rational side knew I was thousands of miles away, the memories filled me with dread.
I sipped my coffee as I skimmed through the list of questions on my main screen and launched the transcription app on theother. The video screen flickered as a curvy blonde wearing thick black glasses joined the call. “Hi, Amy.”
“Hi.” Her tired eyes and nervous energy tore at me, reminding me of the importance of this story.
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me. I understand how difficult this must be.”
She bit her lip before responding. “I’m just hoping I can help. Becca told me about you. Said you’re trying to expose Hale for who he really is.”
“I am. How long did you work for him?”
“Three years. I covered the front desk, mostly. I managed his calendar and screened his calls.”
I leaned in. Her tenure was longer than most. “Can you tell me about your time there? What was it like?”
Amy’s expression tightened. “I thought I was lucky at first. Avoided the worst of it. Most of the time, Hale left me alone. I did my job well, and it helped me stay off his radar.”
I nodded to encourage her to continue. This wasn’t new. Every woman I spoke to thought they could somehow avoid Hale’s advances and abuse. But eventually, he would take notice. And, once he did, he didn’t stop.
Amy took a shaky breath. “He seemed to single out one woman at a time. Once he had a target, he looked for every opportunity to manipulate them. It was like it gave him some sick sense of power. He’d change meeting times without telling them, then berate them for being late. He would ‘lose’ their reports and then call them incompetent. He’d tell them how great they were one day and then fly off the handle the next. It was a real Jekyll and Hyde situation.”
Her words reminded me of the painful, toxic environment I’d experienced. Hale’s sudden mood swings. Walking on eggshells every single day. The constant gaslighting. Rage-fueled one-on-ones followed by team meetings in whichHale showered you with praise after handing you a latte. The manipulative experience left the team tired, confused, and on edge.
I couldn’t help but consider how Hale had twisted my own reality. How often had I doubted my abilities and sanity while working at Abell Enterprises? A familiar tension clawed through my chest as she spoke. I breathed deeply to center myself and focused on my list of questions.
“Did you witness any physical abuse?” I’d heard rumors that other women had been on the receiving end of Hale’s unchecked rage, though I hoped none had endured an attack as brutal as my own.
Amy clenched her jaw. “Yes. His marketing director, Sarah, once left with a bloody nose. I don’t know what exactly happened. But it was clear he hit her. Hard.”
My stomach dropped. “What happened after that?”
“That’s the thing. It was like it never happened. Benjamin Abell strolled in, pulled me aside, and handed me an envelope filled with cash. He said it was mine if I told the cop some random man ran out of the office with bloody knuckles.”
My fingers froze over the keyboard. “And did you?”
