Naomi practically skipped into Chris's office, her head held high and her laptop tucked under one arm. She had worked tirelessly on this article for days, pouring over every detail, cross-referencing her sources, and weaving the evidence into a damning narrative. This wasn't just an article—it was the article. The one that would cement her as a serious journalist.
Chris was seated behind his desk, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He looked up as she walked in, his expression as unreadable as ever.
"Got something for you," Naomi announced, sliding the laptop across the desk and folding her arms with a triumphant grin.
Chris raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he opened the laptop and began to read. Naomi stood there, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and pride. She knew this piece was good. Better than good—it was explosive.
Minutes ticked by as Chris read, his brow furrowing and his lips pressing into a thin line. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and closed the laptop with an audible click.
"Well?" Naomi asked, unable to hide her eagerness.
Chris let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Why are you writing about the Riccis?"
Naomi blinked, thrown by the question. "What do you mean? Did you even read it? This is huge! The Riccis are running a human trafficking ring, Chris. This is bigger than anything we've covered in months."
"You're supposed to be investigating the Morettis," Chris said flatly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. "Not digging into their rivals."
Naomi stared at him, incredulous. "Are you serious? The Riccis are just as bad—no, worse. This story could blow the lid off their entire operation. Why does it matter which family I'm writing about? Crime is crime, Chris."
"It matters because it's not your job to go off-script," he snapped, his tone colder now. "You're here to get the Morettis. That's the story that matters."
Her jaw clenched. "This is the story that matters. And besides, the Riccis are connected to the Morettis—don't you see that? This could be the piece that ties it all together."
Chris shook his head, his expression hardening. "It's a pointless article, Naomi. You don't have enough proof to back up these claims. All you've got are vague allegations and circumstantial evidence. Publishing this would ruin your credibility and drag this paper down with it."
Naomi felt her temper flare. "Oh, so now you care about credibility? Since when? You've run with far weaker stories before, Chris, and you know it."
"This isn't about me," he said sharply. "This is about you overreaching. You're too green for this kind of story, Naomi. Stick to what I ask you to do, and maybe you'll make something of yourself."
She stared at him, a storm brewing behind her eyes. "You're unbelievable," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thanks for the pep talk, boss. Really inspiring."
Chris opened his mouth to respond, but she didn't wait to hear it. She snatched her laptop off the desk and stormed out, her heels clicking angrily against the tiled floor.
By the time Naomi got home, her head was spinning with frustration. Chris's reaction had blindsided her. She had expected pushback—maybe some constructive criticism—but outright dismissal? It didn't sit right with her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice coming from her living room.
"Hey, you're back!" Ethan called, his feet propped up on her coffee table as he shoveled a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. The TV was on, broadcasting a basketball game, and an empty pizza box sat beside him.
Naomi groaned, tossing her bag onto the couch. "How did you even get in here?"
Ethan held up a spare key, grinning. "You gave me this, remember? Emergency game nights, ring a bell?"
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. Ethan's easygoing presence was exactly what she needed right now.
"You look terrible," he said bluntly as she headed to the kitchen to pour herself a drink.
"Gee, thanks," Naomi replied, pulling out a bottle of wine. "Rough day at the office."
Ethan followed her, leaning against the counter. "Want to talk about it?"
Naomi poured a generous glass and sighed. "Chris shot down my article. Completely dismissed it. Said it was pointless and would ruin my career."
"What was the article about?" Ethan asked, stealing a sip from her glass before she could stop him.
"The Riccis," Naomi said, leaning against the counter. "I found solid evidence of their involvement in human trafficking. It's a huge story, Ethan. And he just... brushed it off. Like it wasn't worth anything."
Ethan frowned. "Why does he care so much about the Morettis? If the Riccis are worse, shouldn't he be jumping at the chance to take them down?"
"That's what I thought," Naomi said, frustration lacing her voice. "But he wouldn't listen. He just kept going on about how I didn't have enough proof and how it would hurt my career."
"Sounds like a douchebag move to me," Ethan said, grabbing a second spoon and digging into his ice cream.
Naomi smirked despite herself. "That's because he is a douchebag."
"So why are you still working for him?" Ethan asked, his tone serious now. "You know my family owns a newspaper. You could work there, no restrictions, no drama."
Naomi hesitated, swirling the wine in her glass. "Ethan, I appreciate that, but... it wouldn't feel right. I don't want to feel like I'm using you or your family. It'd mess up our friendship."
Ethan scoffed. "Using me? Please. You'd be doing me a favor. We'd get to work together, and you wouldn't have to deal with that jerk anymore. Win-win."
Naomi opened her mouth to argue but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Game night!" Lucy announced, barging in with a bag of snacks. "Hope you guys are ready to lose."
The tension in the room melted away as Lucy's energy filled the space. They set up their usual board game and settled into a rhythm of playful banter and competitive trash talk. For a few hours, Naomi forgot about Chris, her article, and the weight of the day.
But later, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Ethan's words echoed in her mind.
"Why are you still working for him?"
For the first time, she didn't have an answer. And for the first time, she found herself seriously considering Ethan's offer. Maybe it was time for a change. Maybe it was time to stop letting Chris hold her back.
As sleep finally claimed her, Naomi's thoughts drifted to the possibility of a fresh start—a place where her voice could be heard, free from interference. And for the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful.