Page 1 of Deposed

Chapter 1

I clutched my smartphone with numb fingers, and stared at my invalid e-ticket to New York for so long, my vision blurred. The editor-in-chief of the Saturday Correspondent’s words echoed in my head and drowned out the roar of blood rushing through my eardrums.

The train sped over the tracks, creating a blur of green outside its huge windows, and making the lining of my stomach rumble with dread. It had taken tears, lies, and a whole lot of feminine wiles for Edward to believe that I hadn’t leaked the academy’s secrets to the Saturday Correspondent. And now, after I’d fulfilled my end of the bargain and given his paper some scandalous scoops, Rudolph wanted me to return.

To the wrath of Edward.

To the triumvirate.

And to Mercia Academy.

My throat spasmed, and my mind ran through everything I’d suffered during my first term. The gauntlet pushed itself to the front of my mind, as did the punches and kicks and hair-pulling. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the sting of the tampered shampoo.

If I returned to Mercia Academy, things would be much worse. I might not even make it out alive. Anger surged through my veins, making my limbs shake. Rudolph couldn’t do this to me. The information I had given the Correspondent had taken it from a loss-making operation to one that syndicated articles to much larger papers. Jackie had even told me they’d made enough to pay off their corporate debt. I had done enough, and he couldn’t demand any more.

The train pulled into an artificially lit platform in London, Victoria station. A muffled announcement sounded on the loudspeaker, and all the passengers bustled out toward the exit. I stared after them, still rooted to my seat. I had two choices. One, to return to Mercia Academy face the consequences when the article based on the file I took from Edward came out on Saturday. Or two, to storm Jackie’s meeting with Rudolph and demand that he fulfill his end of our bargain.

Rudolph owed me a ticket back home to Manhattan, a place at a school of my choosing, an ivy league education, and an internship. I’d given his paper the information they had needed to create scandalous articles. He wouldn’t get away with treating me like shit.

People boarded the train, indicating that it would soon head back south. I pulled myself out of my seat, grabbed my case, and eased my way through the stream of new passengers and out onto the platform. It was time to go to Fleet Street and confront Rudolph.

I passed the ticket barrier and walked through the busy station, avoiding near collisions with people running for their trains. The cacophony of traffic coming in from outside combined with announcements over multiple loudspeakers filled my ears and made my head pound. My phone vibrated. I stopped walking and pulled my smartphone out of my pocket.

A message from Edward flashed on the screen. Where are you?

Guilt surged up my gullet. Mere hours ago, I’d left him naked and sleeping in his study without so much as a goodbye. I stuffed the phone back into my pocket. Stuffed the guilt back down into my gut, and headed for the taxi rank.

* * *

Jackie usually ushered me into her room every time I visited the Saturday Correspondent. Today, she kept me waiting. I sat at the only free seat in the open-plan room, which was next to a bank of six desks set up with huge computer screens for interns to watch through the camera footage. Chocolate Easter egg wrapping littered the surfaces of their desks.

“Mr. Underwood’s daughter’s going to a local comprehensive school now,” whispered an Indian girl with a long braid she coiled into a thick bun.

“Charlotte?” Her colleague, a plump blonde, raised her head and grinned. “Why?”

“Her dad’s diverting all his funds to hiring a lawyer. He’s convinced he’ll go to jail for fiddling expenses.” She took a sip from her coffee mug. “What are you looking at?”

“Edward Mercia.”

My heart jumped into my throat, and I whirled around. Both interns fixed their gazes on the computer screens, and each wore headphones.

“Oh.” The blonde leaned back to stare at the Indian girl’s screen. “I saw him rush through the common room, looking agitated. What’s got his knickers in a twist?”

“He’s frantic about Emilia and has just told Blake Simpson-West that she’s moved out of her room.”

Regret spasmed through my insides. Keeping my head down, I twisted in my seat and turned my back on the interns in case they recognized me. I wasn’t in any kind of mood to discuss what I’d done to Edward with wide-eyed, young journalists. They continued discussing his sorry state until the sounds of their excited voices made my insides shrivel.

My spying probably caused Edward and the triumvirate more distress and public humiliation than they had originally caused me.

I pulled my attention away from the interns and back to Jackie’s door. What could be so important that she couldn’t spare a few minutes to see me? It felt like I’d been sitting here for at least an hour. My gaze flickered to the window, where a trio of red, double-decker buses headed toward St. Paul’s Cathedral. My smartphone buzzed again, and a pit of dread opened up in my stomach.

I pulled it out of my pocket and stared at the screen. It was Edward. Again. What kind of person leaves a place so suddenly and without a goodbye? A guilty one. You were the leak. Your actions are the only confession I need.

My lips tightened. It looked like he had barged his way through the room I shared with Rita and found that I had taken some of my things and gone.

“Mr. Trommel!” exclaimed a voice at the other end of the open-plan office.

My head snapped up. Rudolph strolled in, flanked by two female assistants. He wore a navy blue, pinstriped suit with a silver tie that matched his startling, gray eyes. As usual, his face was devoid of expression, jowls and excess skin hanging off his bones like used-up crepe paper.