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And if he did lie... what the hell would that even look like? Would that mean sentencing himself to a lifetime of wondering when the scandal might break? Of waking every morning in a pool of sweat, scared that that today it would all unravel?
He knew the risk of getting caught was low. Artair didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d go public—he’d barely tolerated being included under a code name, after all. The last thing the man seemed to want was fame.
But the threat would always be there, wouldn’t it? Gnawing away in the background. Just waiting for the perfect moment to ruin his reputation.
Luca stared at the page.
He knew that he should just give up. Accept his defeat.
That was the honest choice.
The right choice.
He’d made his reputation on exploring the truth. On showing reality no matter the consequences. And the thought that his first big break would be based on a lie made his stomach churn. Not just in fear, but disgust.
But... that would mean his entire time out here was for nothing! That would mean he’d leave this place just as broke and unemployed as when he arrived. That would mean all the social change he could make with his future writing would never be realized. That would mean he might never get properly published—because you didn’t get second chances as good as this!
Luca gathered the paper in his hands, far heavier than ten sheets had any right to be.
Among the later paragraphs, between preparing for dinner with Artair and the storm that followed it, was a glaring chunk of empty space—deliberately left.
The section that he didn’t know how to write.
The section that would define the integrity of the piece.
The section that would define the integrity of him.
Luca didn’t know how long he stared at that blank space, just listening to the forest collapse around him, imagining what kind of story he might fill it with. Because no matter how pretty he made the words, there were only two choices.
He could write a lie that the Gazette could publish.
Or write the truth that they couldn’t.
The longer Luca stared at the space, the more that ghosts of past stories seemed to haunt him.
All those people he’d met.
All those people he’d done justice to.
All those people he’d been honest about.
All those people—silent and mistreated and ignored and vilified—whose truths he’d brought to life.
Stories about real people, real hopes, real fears, real desires, real loves, and real sex.
Stories that weren’t proper.
Stories that weren’t polite.
Stories that mainstream society didn’t want to hear.
Stories that mainstream society didn’t think should be told!
Hands shaking, Luca fed the somber page into the typewriter, lining up the ribbon with the start of the blank space.
He braced himself to do what had to be done. To swallow the bitter pill of deception for the sake of his career. To write the lie that would keep the opportunity alive.
Luca could see the text forming in his mind, how the lies would appear in newsprint. He could see the bold font of the headline. He could see his little photograph in the corner. He could see the pages being carried around major cities under people’s arms. He could see the folded sheets around board rooms and dining tables—sparking conversations that wouldn’t exist without him.
