Page 130 of The Golden Scoop

My frustration spikes. I have a strict no-googling, no social media policy, but moments like these remind me how much self-imposed solitary confinement sucks.

“I’m not in the mood for riddles,” I grumble. “Please explain.”

“The article is everywhere and people are obsessed with it,” she says, sounding one step away from buzzing. “You’ve never had a hit this big. They love it. Listen to this comment: The most honest piece written about celebrity culture in years. Matt Hunt seems to be more than action to me.”

What the hell is she talking about? I blink. Once. Twice.

“Jennifer,” I say slowly, “what article?”

“Emma’s.”

Everything inside me stops functioning.

Now I’m very confused.

“She published?” I ask. “People love it and you’re not mad?”

“I actually owe you an apology,” Jennifer says. “You were right about trusting Emma. Holding off on giving a statement was the right move because she came through for you. I thought you were just smitten, but clearly there’s something more going on between you two.”

“She’s the most genuine, honest person I’ve ever met,” I say automatically.

Jennifer goes quiet for a second.

“Matt…” she says softly. “Go read it. It’s on her blog.”

She laughs.

“Though, knowing you, it’s already bookmarked.”

I don’t deny it. Because it is.

“Have to go,” I say quickly.

I hang up before she can respond. My hands are unsteady as I open my browser where Emma’s blog is already loaded up. The page refreshes, and a new entry pops up.

The title alone makes me brace myself.

If It Bleeds, It Leads: Matt Hunt, The Man Behind the Mask by Emma Miller

Then I see the numbers underneath. Currently, twenty thousand people reading.

Holy shit.

No wonder Jennifer sounded like she’d just won the lottery. For a manager, this is basically the same thing.

But… how did she do this? There’s no way Golden would’ve let her use the assignment she’s been working on for weeks on her personal site.

As soon as I start reading, my stomach drops. Emma’s not even talking about me. She’s calling out the industry, our deranged instinct to feed on someone else’s problems.

There’s no way she’s getting out of this unscathed.

If you’re going to believe someone, let it be me.

She wasn’t even allowed to tell her family about The Scoop, and now anyone with common sense can connect the dots. Clear breach of contract.

Fuck.

No wonder she’s not picking up. She didn’t protect herself, or her job. She protected me.