Page 19

Josh’s gaze flicked to her with an expression I couldn’t decipher, straight brows narrowing a fraction.

He opened his mouth, but his friend was quicker.

“We’re supposed to play defence,” he chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners.

I chewed on my bottom lip and wracked the case over in my head as they got into an argument debating said author’s stupidity or lack thereof.

“So… we’re trying to prove negligence doesn’t automatically equal liability,” I thought out loud during a lull.

Josh rubbed at his jaw, then leaned a fraction closer to the table.

“Depends on the amount.” He drummed a thoughtful metronome against wood. “Reading your own manuscript back and missing things hundreds of readers caught doesn’t read as negligence to me.”

Each word came out slow and intentional, and though it wasn’t a direct challenge to me, my spine stiffened.

“The number of changes is significant, too.” I mused, scribbling something on the corner of the page. “At what point does editing become co-authorship?”

“So you think only the editor in question should’ve been punished?” she drawled from my left, making me pause mid-scribble.

“That’s not what I said at all.” I frowned.

I was pleased my voice was even, belying the irritation scraping under my skin. “But if the edits fundamentally changed the original manuscript… we may be talking about two books.”

She tapped her pen on the side of the table, each tap both impatient and judgemental.

Another low whistle made me look up—only to find both guys watching me. I swallowed, hard, as a prickle of cool sweat slid down my spine.

“That’s… actually not bad.” The man leaned forward clumsily until he almost upended a paper cup of coffee. “You’re the scholarship girl, right?” he added, almost like an afterthought as his long fingers carefully plucked the cup and placed it away from himself.

I bit down on a wholly ill-fitting laugh.

“I’m Matthew,” he said, biting on a fingernail.

“Yeah. And thanks, I only thought—”

“We should focus on how fast the publishing house acted,” she cut in. A perfectly manicured fingernail tapped against the papers, as if that would make her point stick.

“You think they had reason to suspect it?” Josh said to her, though his eyes swept over me.

My hackles rose as if on command.

Long, dark lashes hid whatever was going on behind that gaze. I doubted it was anything good.

I took a hasty gulp of cool coffee and consulted my notes as pressure crept up behind my eyelids.

“Had to be, right? It all happened in the span of a week.” Her long elegant gestures grew more animated. Or maybe I was reading into it too much, but I swore she leaned forward a bit more when he spoke. “They wouldn’t have pulled it if they didn’t know—”

“Not necessarily. And besides, we’re not arguing their reaction,” Matthew drawled, pawing at the corner of a notebook and pushing it around.

Silence stretched, punctuated by the sound of Professor Vaughn’s heels and the sharp tap of her fingernails against the clipboard as she moved around, observing each team.

“We don’t know if they reacted because of evidence… or because of public pressure.” I let out a slow breath. My foot jiggled under the table, drumming nearly inaudible taps on the leg of my chair.

Josh tilted his head, shards of ice sharpening on me, and my pulse gave a sharp little kick, as if preparing me for battle.

I couldn’t tell if I’d managed to say something incredibly stupid or—

“It doesn’t even matter what actually happened. Once readers lose trust…”