Chapter 5

Maya's POV

I refused to just roll over and take it.

For that entire series, every single interview had a corresponding recording, and my notebooks were filled to the brim with detailed notes, complete with direct contact numbers for every source.

As long as those people existed and the audio files remained intact, no one could slap that dirty label on my back.

My mind was crystal clear: this job might be gone, but I was not going to let them run me out of journalism.

Early the next morning, I packed the reporting notebooks and the external hard drive containing the backup audio into my shoulder bag and headed for the newsroom.

I was going to slam every single piece of evidence right onto the editor-in-chief's desk.

Taking the narrow alley behind my apartment cut ten minutes off the walk, an alley that rarely saw any vehicular traffic.

I kept my head down, hurrying forward.

Right in the middle of the alley, the violent roar of an engine shattered the morning quiet.

I whipped my head up just in time to see a black motorcycle tearing into the narrow passage, barreling straight toward me.

There was no time to dodge. Before a scream could even tear from my throat, the impact launched me through the air.

My back slammed hard against concrete steps, my head cracking violently against the sharp edge of the curb.

Warm blood immediately flooded down from my temple, blinding half my vision.

My bag flew from my grip. Reporting notebooks scattered across the pavement, and my phone clattered against the asphalt, its screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks.

I tried to push myself up, but my arms buckled both times I tried.

The world spun in dizzying blurs. The roar of the engine faded into the distance, replaced by hurried footsteps and the frantic sobs of a woman.

Through the haze, I saw Ethan rush over. Chloe was sitting on the curb with her knees pulled to her chest, sobbing uncontrollably, her makeup completely ruined.

I lay crumpled against the steps, my face drenched in crimson.

He walked straight past me toward Chloe, dropping to his knees to wrap his arms tightly around her, rubbing her back soothingly. "Stop crying. I'm right here. You're fine, okay?"

"I didn't mean to..." Chloe buried her face against his chest, gasping between sobs. "I just wanted to find someone to scare her a little so she'd stop causing trouble at the office! I didn't want to hurt her... Ethan, I'm so scared. Am I going to jail?"

"Don't talk nonsense," Ethan murmured, stroking her hair. He cast a quick, dismissive glance at me lying in the dirt before looking back down to comfort the woman in his arms. "I won't let anything happen to you."

I watched him pull out his phone, call his assistant, and order an ambulance to the scene.

Only after hanging up did he walk over and crouch beside me, extending two fingers to check my breathing.

Letting out an irritated sigh of relief, he furrowed his brows and muttered under his breath, "Why do you have to be so careless?"

The ambulance arrived shortly after. As the paramedics lifted me onto the gurney, my fading vision caught Ethan supporting Chloe by the waist, her entire weight leaning into his frame.

My lips parted, but no sound came out before the darkness pulled me under.

When I opened my eyes, several days had already slipped by.

I had twelve stitches across my scalp. With the painkillers wearing off, my head felt like it was splitting in two.

I turned my head and saw Ethan sitting vigil beside the bed, flipping intently through one of my reporting notebooks.

Seeing me stir, he snapped the notebook shut and set it aside.

"My phone... my notebooks..." My voice came out cracked and hoarse.

That was the last shred of evidence I had left.

"They're all right here with me. Not a page missing," Ethan said calmly, looking down at me. "Though you won't need to go back to the newsroom anyway."

"Why?"

"I've already met with the primary source from your investigation in person." He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the bedside table. "From now on, no matter who asks, he'll swear he has never laid eyes on you. As for the rest of them, I've already handled it. Making a scene won't do you any good."

I stared at him, my eyes burning as the rims turned crimson.

Not a page was missing, but every single voice inside those pages had been bought and silenced.

The notebook lay open right in front of me, its contents rendered completely useless.

"What right do you have?" My voice was barely a whisper. "That was my work. My career. What right do you have to wipe it out with a single word?"

"What right?" Ethan let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "The right given to me by your stubbornness. Chloe gets frightened easily, yet you insisted on making trouble at the newsroom. You backed her into a corner until she panicked and did something reckless. You should be glad I'm not blaming you for pushing her to that point."

Right then, the door swung open, and two police officers walked in to take my statement regarding the hit-and-run.

Just as I opened my mouth to state that someone had deliberately run me down, Ethan spoke up first. "Chloe Bailey was with me the entire time the incident took place."

The officer nodded, jotted down the note, asked a couple of routine questions, and left.

I lay flat on the hospital bed, a bone-chilling cold creeping through my limbs.

When he brushed off the loss of our child with a wave of his hand, a tiny spark of hope had still lingered inside me.

That spark was anchored to a naive belief: no matter how cold-hearted he could be, he would never actively protect the person who tried to kill me.

Yet he just did.

Right in front of law enforcement, looking straight at my twelve fresh stitches, he cleanly scrubbed that woman of any blame.

That final spark died right then and there.

"Losing that job is for the best anyway." Ethan reached out to caress my cheek, but I turned my head away, avoiding his touch.

He didn't seem to care. "You won't have to run around chasing stories anymore, and you won't have to deal with those shady characters. I'll cover all your living expenses. You can stay home in peace, just like we used to. Wouldn't that be nice?"

*Just like we used to.*

Trapped in the apartment he provided, watching him marry another woman, eating the food he bought, and bowing my head in gratitude.

The "peace" he offered was nothing more than stripping me of everything that made me whole.

I looked at him, my lips twitching faintly as a solitary tear slipped from the corner of my eye, soaking into my hairline.

I didn't say a single word.

I made up my mind right then: starting today, I would never speak to him again.

Unnerved by my hollow stare, Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but his phone cut him off.

It was Chloe.

He answered immediately, his tone turning instantly gentle. "Panicking again? Just lie down and don't move. I'll be right there."

He turned and strode out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, I closed my eyes.

The crushing agony in my chest made it hard to breathe, so intense that the throbbing pain from the stitches on my head seemed to fade away completely.