understand that the attacks against me are the same as an attack against her? Against all women? If a man had been attacked in the same way, they would be talking about how crazy the person who broke through security and shoved him down was. Instead, they are focused on me and what I must have done to encourage his behavior. It is disgusting. “But there is photographic evidence that shows you and this man in a grocery store looking rather chummy.” I have already addressed this image. In fact, I had a press conference to explain away the preposterous thing. “As I said before. That is a candid photo that was taken by this group that was stalking me for months. I was unaware of the images being taken and though it seems as if I am engaged in conversation with this man, he simply helped me find an item on the shelf.” The “Ah-hah!” light bulb that seems to go off in the reporter’s head makes my eye twitch. “So, you had a conversation with him?” I cross and uncross my legs. The pencil-skirt that I’m wearing was specifically picked out because it is modest and long enough to cover my knees. I can’t help but think that the effort was completely wasted. It doesn’t matter how I dress. People see what they want to and they assume that I am whatever they want me to be. It doesn’t really matter what the truth is. I could be in nun garb and they would still think I was a slut. “Your name was Bridgette, correct?” She nods, waving her hand in the air like she doesn’t care that I apparently forgot her name. But it does and that’s why I had asked her. “Well, Bridgette, do you remember everyone you speak to in a random day? Do you remember the names and faces of strangers who are polite enough to hold open a door for you or pick up something you drop? That’s all this conversation was. No more and no less.” Bridgette at least has the sense to look embarrassed for the stupid lines she’s trying to draw. I lean back against the seat, letting out a subtle breath. I don’t want them to know how rattled I’ve been by this entire situation. I could have been seriously injured and it disgusts me in a way I can’t put into words that all anyone seems to care about is what I was wearing that day and who I had been talking to. Like I deserved it. My stomach twists as the reporter starts her closing statement. She doesn’t seem to buy what I’ve been saying but she doesn’t say anything else that could be seen as a put-down. When she finally releases me from the interview she reaches out as if she wants to shake my hand but quickly drops it. I hope that she feels as ashamed as she should be. I step outside the studio and take a deep breath. Spring is in full swing and I can’t help but miss the crisp air of winter. I quickly flag down my driver and lower my head so that he doesn’t try to make small talk while I climb in. The door shuts behind me and before my eyes can adjust to the dark depths of the car, a clear voice asks. “Was it that bad?” Tina, my administrative assistant is sitting across in the limo cabin across from me. Her seat faces mine with several feet between us and she’s spread a wealth of portfolios and notebooks out while she waited for me. “No, of course not.” I mutter, even though I don’t believe it and I’m sure she doesn’t either. She doesn’t push any further, simply nods and goes back to a calendar that’s open in her lap. “All right, then. Let’s get to work. You have a two o’clock meeting with the CEO of the Purps real estate firm. Then you have a dinner with the governor of — ” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I don’t want to talk about government contracts right now. The only thing I care about is an errand I had her complete a little while ago. “Did you look into what I asked you for?” Tina looks slightly startled that I interrupted her report. She had already been talking about the sales figures for my latest fashion launch. I