Page 105 of Down Knot Out
Best,
Jennifer
Below the signature line is an attached PDF. No emojis, no smiley face, not even a digital signature.
I double-click it, and for five full seconds, my brain can’t process what the dense, all-caps legalese on page one means.
As I scroll, the words resolve into short, devastating sentences.
Author advance suspended, effective immediately, pending clarification of unresolved familial claims.
We regret to inform you the next installment of your advance will be withheld. Payment will resume once you provide written certification confirming no other claimants exist to the Sinclair estate and all related disputes have been resolved.
Should you be unable to provide this certification within ninety days, the publisher reserves the right to terminate current and future projects, including but not limited to the Aurora Storm series, with cause.
I scroll down, because of course there’smore.
Our internal review has revealed that you are currently residing with an unrecognized pack, which may place you in direct conflict with your familial pack. This situation poses a potential reputational risk to the publisher due to likely legal or public relations complications. If you wish to contest this finding, you may submit a formal petition for reconsideration once all related legal matters have been resolved.
My vision whites out. I read the paragraph again, hoping the words will change and become less final.
They do not.
Unrecognized pack? I was able to register my courtship with them, which means they’re in the system. What does that even mean?
My stomach twists into knots.
This isn’t about the money. This is the polite corporate version of being silenced. Go away until you can behave yourself, Chloe. Disappear. Wait until your story isn’t messy enough to ruin their bottom line.
And if they decide to, they can take everything I’ve built as Aurora Storm.
I shut the laptop, catching a section of my sleeve in the hinge. I yank it free, nails scraping across the metal.
On the desk, my phone sits silent. I’ve worked with Jennifer for five years, and she couldn’t even be bothered to call me.
I should get up and go downstairs to find Grady. After his last phone call to them, this email should have gone through him.
I grip the edges of the desk with both hands, holding so tight my knuckles fade to white. My breath shudders in and out as I focus on the twinkle lights crisscrossing over the ceiling.
This was supposed to be my safe place.
I hold the desk until my fingers ache, hoping the pain will crowd out the rest. But it doesn’t.
Why are the Sinclairs doing this to me? They were fine with ignoring my existence up until now. If they hadn’t called me into their law office, wecould have spent the rest of our lives pretending I’d never been a Sinclair to begin with.
A tap comes from the door, and I flinch. I hadn’t turned the sign to warn people away from interrupting me, but I don’t think I have the stomach to go down and eat breakfast with the pack right now.
“Chloe?” The door creaks open and Blake pokes his head in. “Hey, Holden sent me up?—”
He catches sight of my face, and whatever else he planned to say is forgotten as he crosses the room in two strides. The scent of smoked applewood and cider sweeps ahead of him, his pheromones reaching out to comfort me as he crouches next to my chair.
He studies my face, then wraps one hand around mine and tries to uncurl my fingers from the desk. My hand resists. He doesn’t force it, only strokes the back of my knuckles with a thumb, rubbing small, soothing circles.
He shifts his grip, places his other hand on the opposite wrist, and slowly peels both hands free. They ache when released, and the air on my palms stings.
He sets them in my lap and turns the entire chair so I have no choice but to face him. “Chloe. What happened?”
My throat works, and a ragged inhale fills my lungs with smoke and cider. I take another, deeper breath. “They suspended my contract. They’re holding my money. And they might drop the series. They said…”
