Page 103 of Fake It For Glory

My father’s jaw dropped, and he exchanged a bewildered glance with Dalton. They both seemed utterly taken aback by my confession.

“You’re in love with the subject of the article?” my father finally managed to sputter.

I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. “Yes, Dad. It started as a journalistic pursuit, but it became so much more. I’ve fallen in love with him, and I can’t just stand by and let his life be torn apart. I sent Dalton that article for him to look over after you fired me. I guess I thought I could get the recognition I needed from someone I thought was a mentor. I texted Dalton and told him not to run that story. He chose to ignore my wishes. He took something that wasn’t his. I think I might have a cause of action. You better believe I will pursue it if you don’t let me run this piece.”

Dalton leaned forward, his curiosity getting the best of him. “Merida, you need to understand the magnitude of what you’re saying. This changes everything.”

I knew he was right. My admission had the potential to alter the course of my career and personal life in unimaginable ways. But I couldn’t deny my feelings, and I couldn’t ignore the sense of responsibility that now weighed heavily on my shoulders.

“I know,” I replied, my voice filled with determination. “I’m ready to face the consequences, whatever they may be. I have to provide a more balanced perspective. This is my chance to make amends and tell the truth, even when it’s difficult. I have to do this for Jensen. He may never speak to me again, but I can do this for him. I can try to repair what I’ve broken. He did nothing to deserve me betraying his trust like that. He has only shown me kindness.”

“If that’s the case, why did you write it?” Dalton scoffed. “He gave you shit about your shoes. That doesn’t sound like a kind man.”

I ignored Dalton. He knew he’d done something wrong, and when I told the world he ran the story against my wishes, his reputation would be tarnished as well.

I kept my gaze focused on my father. “The story changed, Dad, within weeks of meeting Jensen. It stopped being just about AI and whether it was good or bad. It became about us, about him and me, about all the moments we shared that weren’t related to business.” I paused, my eyes glistening with tears. “I love him, Dad.”

My father’s expression remained skeptical, his brows furrowed deeply. “You love him?” He repeated my words as if they were foreign to him.

I nodded. “Yes, Dad. I never expected it, but it happened. And now, I’m in too deep. I can’t just walk away and watch his life be torn apart.”

“You’re asking me to put your personal feelings above your career and our publication’s reputation,” he said.

“Dad, I understand the risks,” I said firmly. “Please, help me make it right.”

My father and Dalton exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by my unwavering resolve. I could feel the tension in the room, and I knew this was a pivotal moment in my career and my relationship with both of them.

“Dalton, could you give us a moment, please?” my father finally requested, his voice strained.

Dalton stood up with a mocking grin, slow clapping as if this were some kind of twisted performance. “Well done, Merida,” he said sarcastically, his eyes cold. “You’ve certainly made your point.”

I ignored Dalton’s sarcasm and maintained my stern gaze on my father. This was my moment to assert my independence and prove my worth, and I wasn’t about to back down.

“Look, Dad,” I said firmly, digging deep to find the strength to stand up to him. “I’ve spent years feeling like I’m held down under your thumb because you refuse to see me as anything other than your little girl. You think I’m dabbling in journalism. That time is over. I’ve proven that I can find a good story and write a compelling piece. My name already carries weight, and if you don’t publish this, I’ll take it directly to our competition. They’ll run it first thing tomorrow morning, if not tonight. It’s your choice.”

My father’s expression shifted between frustration and resignation. He knew I was serious, and he understood the implications of my threat. I had arrived at a crossroads in my career, and I was determined to no longer write fluff to fit the mold he had in mind for me. As far as I was concerned, I had written my last article for Full Disclosure. It was no longer what I wanted to do. I wasn’t going to quit writing, but I wanted to use my talent for something good.

Dalton was standing outside my father’s office when I walked out. “You’re such a dick,” I hissed. “I can’t believe I ever looked up to you. You are the reason all of this is happening. Fuck you. Don’t ever call me again. We are not friends. We are not coworkers. You are my enemy. Period.”