a statement, assure our consumers that we are dedicated to cruelty-free beauty products—”
My phone buzzed so violently it fell to the floor. I picked it up as a flurry of notifications from my social media accounts lit up the screen. I’d always been the face of Wild Heart. From the beginning, I’d positioned myself as America’s Vegan Best Friend and Wild Heart had reaped the rewards.
Now I caught the words Twitter, comments, Luna, fucking fake.
Could corn chips be delivered to you by the metric ton?
“In the court of public opinion, you’re a liar, Luna.” Jasmine spoke up from her spot by the door. “We need to get out in front of this before the story breaks. Tell the narrative to the best of our ability.”
“Okay,” I said, distracted by the vile words spilling across my screen. “The story’s already broken though.”
I pushed my phone across the desk with one finger. Jasmine strode over, glanced at it. Muttered beneath her breath. I crossed my legs beneath my gauzy hot-pink skirt and pulled my hair over one shoulder, mindlessly braiding it. My bangles clinked up my wrist.
“But Ferris Mark lied to us,” I said, attempting to process this new information. “Right? I mean, I get feeling upset but we’re the victims too. I would never, ever source ingredients that were tested on animals.” I jiggled my flip-flops, braided my hair, and tried to ignore the voice in my subconscious screaming at me. Something’s not right.
“We should have the documentation to prove our innocence,” I said, standing up quickly. I swished over to a long row of filing cabinets, scanning for contracts from the year 2015. Yanked open the right cabinet and started flipping through file folders with a righteous passion. “I signed their contract myself so—”
I waved the file in the air. “Here we go,” I said, slapping it down on the desk. “This will help. This proves that we were lied to. We’ll fix it. I believe that we can fix it.”
My internal compass had been stuck on enthusiastic optimist since birth.
“Luna, there’s another issue.” Sylvia’s gentle voice had an edge to it I barely recognized. We made eye contact—my mentor seemed pained, and not only at this news.
“One second,” I said. “Let me just find this.” I dug through the papers, seeking validation that Wild Heart could make this right. I’d founded this company with the sole purpose to do right, to change things for the better throughout our entire industry—how could we be the ones in the wrong?
“The reporter has something, Luna,” Jasmine piped up. “I doubt you remember this but you—”
“Oh my god, I signed off on it.” I was holding the paper, swallowing hard, trying to decipher the ugly truth staring right back at me.
An addendum to our contract. Traditionally, Wild Heart had an extensive due diligence process. It was one of the many ways we ensured the companies we sourced ingredients from not only had a clean animal rights record, but a human rights record as well. That was our promise to consumers, my promise to the world.
That was the promise I made to myself, all those years ago.
The addendum was authorizing Wild Heart to waive our standard policies and to move ahead without an inspection of their production plants.
“You directed the production team to go ahead with Ferris Mark even though they expressed concerns with their ethics. You made the decision to waive our process because you trusted they were cruelty-free without verifying,” Sylvia said.
My signature appeared huge and jubilant on the page—no doubt I’d been excited about the Fischer deal and eager to stay on track.
“The decision to take Ferris Mark at its word was all yours, Luna,” Sylvia said.
Our eyes met across the table. Sylvia Lee had smashed through the glass ceiling twenty years ago when she became one of the first female CEOs of a Fortune 500 company. Since then, she’d spent her career taking other female entrepreneurs under her wing, serving on boards and committees and acting as a mentor. For the past ten years, she’d kindly guided me forward and firmly wrangled me in.
The very real disappointment on her face had a fist closing around my throat.
I remembered now, the night I’d signed this. I’d met Emily, Cameron and Daisy for drinks at our favorite tiki bar by the beach, had danced and twirled around and laughed with my favorite women and felt powerful, strong. Because I’d bypassed my board and pulled the trigger on a decision I knew was