Read An Excerpt From 'Valley Verified' by Kyla Zhao

When a fashion writer dives headfirst into the cutthroat Silicon Valley tech world, her future threatens to unravel in this addictive novel by Kyla Zhao, author of The Fraud Squad.

Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Kyla Zhao’s Valley Verified, which is out January 16th 2024.

On paper, Zoe Zeng has made it in New York’s fashion world. After a string of unpaid internships, she’s now a fashion columnist at Chic, lives in a quaint apartment in Manhattan, and gets invited to exclusive industry events.

But life in New York City isn’t as chic as Zoe imagined. Her editor wants her to censor her opinions to please the big brands; she shares her “quaint” ( small) apartment with two roommates who never let her store kimchi in the fridge; and how is she supposed to afford the designer clothes expected for those parties on her meager salary?

Then one day, Zoe receives a job offer at FitPick, an app startup based in Silicon Valley. The tech salary and office perks are sweet, but moving across the country and switching to a totally new industry? Not so much. However, with her current career at a dead end, Zoe accepts the offer and swaps high fashion for high tech, haute couture for HTML. But she soon realizes that in an industry claiming to change the world for the better, not everyone’s intentions are pure. With an eight-figure investment on the line, Zoe must find a way to revamp FitPick’s image despite Silicon Valley’s elitism and her icy colleagues. Or the company’s future will go up in smoke—and hers with it.

“A new job?!”

Bjorn’s shriek pierced the babble in the small bar he, Zoe, and Cassie had gathered at for their weekly happy hour.

Zoe’s stomach tightened, and not just because of the annoyed stares shot in their direction. She raised her cocktail glass and took a long sip to cover her crestfallen expression. She pretended not to notice how Bjorn had physically recoiled when she broke the news that she had accepted FitPick’s job offer, nor how Cassie gave him a none-too-subtle jab in the ribs that made him wince.

“Not that we aren’t excited for you,” Cassie said, setting down her own drink. “But I just never pegged you as someone who would work in tech. Tech is so cold and clinical, and Zee . . . you’re not.”

The knot in Zoe’s gut eased slightly. The old guards in fashion publishing often spoke fondly of the past—when couture was made to be worn and admired in person (not viewed through pixels on a screen) and magazines were hefty nine-hundred-page tomes instead of pithy online pages that contained a dozen hyperlinks to influencers’ Instagram accounts and retail platforms offering more affordable dupes of the featured clothes.

“Yeah, did you forget about the cover catastrophe from last September?” Bjorn whispered, as though the mere mention of the disaster would cause the roof of the hipster speakeasy to collapse.

Zoe and Cassie unanimously sucked in a sharp breath. Chic, like every other fashion magazine, had had to make the digital pivot with a host of new implementations, a few of which were more successful than others. The QR code in every photo spread that let readers use virtual reality technology to “wear” the featured clothes in the privacy of their own home was a hit, but it had all come to a head when the editor in chief got the idea of turning last year’s September issue cover into an NFT. Metaverse Magic was the title emblazoned on the cover, featuring two nude models with their anatomy covered strategically with QR codes that would open up to an exclusive Balenciaga NFT design once scanned. Unfortunately, it had quickly spawned a tide of memes all over social media, and the cover became the worst-selling one in Chic’s history.

Zoe put her glass down. “Come on, you two, this would be an exciting challenge for me!” she said brightly, wondering if she was trying to convince her friends or herself. “I’ve been writing for Chic for two years, and it’s really not typical for people in their twenties to stay at their first company for longer than that.”

Bjorn’s right brow shot up. “Girl, making denim on denim work is a new challenge. Getting a new job in an industry you have completely no experience with is a brain aneurysm.”

“I have experience with technology,” Zoe reminded him. “I handled Chic’s social media accounts when our digital coordinator was on her honeymoon a few months ago, and I’ve worked with 3D printers during my 3D design elective in college.”

“Everyone wears clothes but that doesn’t mean they’re qualified to make a living out of it like we do,” Cassie said.

Zoe paused as Cassie’s words sank in, hollowing a pit in her stomach. “So that’s the real issue,” she finally said. “You two don’t think I’m qualified for this role.”

“Of course not!” Cassie exclaimed.

“Well . . .” Bjorn started. “What?” he asked defensively when Cassie glared at him. “Friendship is all about tough love. Zee, you have an amazing eye for fashion and editorial, not to mention a kickass style. If you just stick it out for a bit longer, someone’s bound to recognize your talent.” His voice gentled. “Why do you want to throw that all away to start from square one, in an industry where you have no knowledge or connections?”

Zoe squashed down the niggling voice in her head that had been wondering the same thing on loop over the past two days. “That’s the thing, Bjorn—I can’t afford to stick it out for a bit longer. I’ve been saying that to myself for ages but you heard Francesca: I wasn’t hired to think, just to parrot whatever those brand PRs tell us. That’s not the fashion journalism career I want. And I’m not starting from square one: FitPick is a fashion app, so my fashion expertise will be very helpful for my new role as vice president of marketing.”

“Vice president of marketing?” Bjorn yelped, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“Shhh,” Zoe whispered, blushing as a man nearby glowered at them. “The title sounds way fancier than it is. There’s a bunch of contracted engineers but only five full-time employees working there now. I’ll be the only person in marketing, so I guess that makes me the head by default.”

“Yeah but still, I bet your new fancy title comes with a fancy paycheck. We all know how much money is floating around in tech.” Cassie nudged Zoe’s arm. “Come on, Zee, admit you’ll be making bank.”

Zoe laughed, hoping her friends wouldn’t catch the slightly forced quality behind it. It wasn’t like the three of them had never talked about money before. Actually, they talked about it all the time, but always to complain about their lack of it and to daydream what they would do if they ever won the lottery or—God forbid—if Chic decided to pay them even just a bit above minimum wage. But she had never been put in a position where she would suddenly be making over two times as much as her friends.

“The pay’s not bad,” she finally said, as if a six-figure salary could be considered just “not bad.” “But it also means there’s more pressure on me to actually do a good job at what they hired me to do. And if we don’t succeed in impressing this hotshot investor, we might have to shut down in a few months’ time.”

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Bjorn sighed into his drink. “We’ve lost her already,” he muttered to Cassie. “She’s already saying we.”

Cassie shrugged. “Chic’s probably gonna get shut down soon anyway. At least going to FitPick means Zoe will be way better paid while she has a job.”

“Hang on.” Bjorn’s face turned somber as he looked straight at Zoe. “This means you’re leaving us.”

Instantly, the noise in the bar seemed to fade, like someone had toggled an “Off” switch. Zoe shuffled along the booth bench and leaned her head against Bjorn’s shoulder. “I’m not leaving you two; I’m just leaving Chic. But we’ll still talk every day and watch Love Island together over Zoom and grumble about our jobs. Bjorn, you know I’m always just one text away to help you pick the best photos to post on your Instagram.” Zoe turned to Cassie. “And I’ll be on standby whenever you go on a Bumble date so that I can fake an ‘emergency’ phone call to you if your date goes badly. And we can continue to have our outfit huddles—over FitPick! Everything will still be the same.”

“Except it won’t!” Bjorn cried, almost upending their platter of fries with his flailing hands. “We won’t be able to gossip together at work or ogle the hot male models who drop by. And if it’s just Cassie and me going to bars, we will just look like a couple and no one’s going to hit on us. And how am I supposed to find the motivation to go to Pilates without you coming with me? You know Cassie doesn’t like to sweat.” He gestured out the floor-to-ceiling window next to their booth. “And how can you possibly think of leaving the greatest city on Earth?”

Zoe looked pointedly at the pile of trash bags on the sidewalk right next to the bar. A well-dressed lady stepped daintily over a smaller heap of food scraps that had spewed out from an open hole in one of the bags. The moment she was a safe distance away, a pigeon flew down and began rummaging through the discarded waste. It quickly took flight as two blaring car horns boomed out in quick succession, followed by a stream of colorful shouts from somewhere on the road that was thankfully muffled by the bar’s thick glass windows.

Zoe raised one brow at Bjorn, I rest my case.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but at least the city is walkable. Good luck surviving without a driver’s license in California, where the nearest grocery store is probably twenty minutes from your house. And it might be messy here but that just shows us New Yorkers know how to have a good time. I can’t say the same for those tech geeks and suburban moms in your new neighborhood.”

Cassie placed a gentle hand on Zoe’s arm. “What Bjorn means is, we will miss you a lot, Zee. Very, very much. But we’re still really happy and excited for you that you found such a great opportunity. Go, save yourself from the dumpster fire that will erupt when Chic is shut down and we all get laid off. Just . . . give us some time to process the fact that our best friend will be on the other side of the country.”

Bjorn looked suitably chastised. “I’m sorry, Zee. I didn’t mean to rain on your parade. You deserve so much better than what Chic and Francesca Fraatz can give you. It’s just really hard to imagine life without you here and not knowing when I’ll see you again. Cass and I can’t be a throuple without you.”

Suddenly, Zoe’s heart was gripped in a painful squeeze. New York City was where she had attended college and worked her first (and only) job; how was she ever going to survive in California where she knew no one, while her best friends continued on at Chic without her? With whom was she going to gossip about celebrities in the office break room or play What Would You Rather Wear? when walking past mannequins in storefront windows? As much as she wanted to pretend everything would stay the way it was, the cold hard truth was that this would be the last time in a long while the trio would all be together. In just two weeks, while Bjorn and Cassie made their way to Chic’s office in Tribeca as usual, she would be on a plane across the country.