Page 128 of The Golden Scoop

Ah. There it is.

Now I have the full picture.

They don’t care about the article.

Or the truth.

Management is clinging to the last little bit of control they have, desperately looking for a way to survive. Repackage the scandal. And the only thing they’ve come up with is owning their mistake. Pretend like they didn’t realize how wrong it was until their gossip writer brought it to their attention.

“What about the column?”

“Wouldn’t be your assignment anymore.”

I scoff. “It should be cut.”

“It will go through an extensive rebranding. It will still report Hollywood news, leaving gossip as background noise.”

Nothing will change. The first couple of issues will be toned down, but eventually it’ll drift right back to where it started. This isn’t a promotion. It’s a tactic to silence me. Put me back inside the machine before I can become a bigger problem.

“Good luck with that,” I tell her. “Thank you for the opportunity. I’m not interested.”

Martha actually laughs. One sharp, disbelieving sound.

“You’re throwing away the biggest opportunity of your career over one actor?”

“No,” I say evenly. “I remembered why I became a journalist in the first place.”

Her expression hardens.

“You can’t be serious,” Martha bites back. “You made your point, Emma. Walking away from this will be a mistake.”

“I already walked away when I clicked publish.”

She starts pacing again. When I turn to leave, she follows me out the door.

“You will have my resignation letter in your inbox tonight.”

“No need!” she yells. “You’re fired!”

Heads pop up from cubicles, all staring wide-eyed at her. No one dares to even whisper a word. I don’t turn back.

For a moment, it feels like I’ve been carrying something heavy around for years, and someone finally took it off my shoulders. It doesn’t last long before another settles in its place.

Professionally? I’ll figure it out. I always do.

Personally… there’s nothing left to do. I told the truth, I protected him, and I put everything on the table. Whatever Matt decides isn’t up to me anymore.

I have no plan.

THIRTY

Matt

Late nights don’t bother me. I’m used to having a crazy schedule. By the time I hit the sack, I’m out cold and don’t even so much as twitch.

A few times sleeping beside Emma is all it took to wreck my whole routine. I’m disoriented in my own bed, reaching for the other side at random hours of the night, waking up when I find it empty.

I’ve been such an idiot. I wasted two days, letting my insecurities take control of my decision, like a teenager without a filter. She could’ve been here. Instead, everything feels wrong. The house’s too tidy. Too quiet.