Chapter 112

“Esther,” says one my co-workers in the office, a woman who I haven’t spoken to much. “You’re going to want to watch the question and answer session Representative Hamilton gave outside of his photo op today. Your name came up.”

Immediately, my heart leaps against my ribcage. Fear makes my mouth go dry.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

She nods and walks away.

Alone in my cubicle again, I open a new internet window and search for the question and answer session my co-worker was talking about. It doesn’t take me long to find it. It’s at the top of every news page.

I take one last breath to steady myself. Then, I click play.

A woman screams out a question. “Is it true you are in a secret romantic relationship with Harbinger News Company reporter Esther Owens?” The camera pans slightly, showing a glimpse of the reporter who asked that question. Isn’t that… Jessica?

Anger wars the anxiety within me. This was a trap question. Jessica wanted to trip him up.

This is also telling. Jessica knows about our relationship, but does she know it because she surmised it from the picture, or does she know it because Amber told her so?

I don’t know. Before I can decide which is more possible, Miles answers.

“Ms. Owens and I are friendly,” Miles says. “As I am with many of the reporters from various different organizations.”

“You deny a romantic relationship?” Jessica calls out.

“I do,” Miles says. His smile is easy and wide, making him look boyish, but it does not meet his eyes. “Esther and I are just friends. I apologize if that ruins your headlines.” He laughs, and in a chain reaction, the reporters laugh too.

“Now,” he continues as he searches around the other reporters. “Does anyone have any actual questions for me today?”

More questions are shouted, and Miles dutifully and expertly answers them. My name does not come up again.

When the video ends, I close the internet window and sit alone with my thoughts.

Miles denied our relationship. That’s good. That’s what he should do, to protect himself and me. Maybe Jessica thinks this helps set up a gotcha moment for when the pictures come out, but I’m not sure, even if the pictures do come out, that everything will play out as she predicts.

Jessica likely wanted to plant rumors about Miles and me being an item, but all this did was get Miles himself ahead of the storm. Unless there’s a second image, Miles cannot be fully identified. His denial will carry through the photos release, hopefully protecting him.

Either way, my reputation doesn’t look great. But a scandal with an unknown man still looked better than one with presidential candidate Miles Hamilton. So I thank the universe for small blessings.

Yet even knowing Miles response ultimately helps us both, it still hurts to have to hear it.

It shouldn’t. Miles and I only have a physical relationship, not a romantic one. What Miles said wasn’t even incorrect. We aren’t romantic.

I hang my head. God, I really need to get it together. My feelings for Miles are so jumbled up I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush again. I’m a divorced woman with two kids. I shouldn’t be feeling this many raging hormones.

Forcing myself to focus, I somehow manage to make it through the rest of the day. The quality of my work has likely suffered, but I’ve still managed to at least write a few first drafts. That’s better than nothing.

I’m just wrapping up for the day, shutting everything down and collecting my stuff, when the phone on my desk starts to ring. That doesn’t happen often. I sometimes use that phone to call out to my sources, but very rarely do I ever receive calls coming in.

It’s curious for sure, but this is my desk. That is my phone. It’s my responsibility to answer it.

Grabbing the receiver, I lift it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Esther.” It’s Hugo’s voice, all serious and stern. “Come to my office, please.”

“Okay,” I say and we both hang up.

My co-workers are starting to file out, many leaving for the day. Some, like Kimberly, will work late.

I walk past the ones who are leaving, heading in the opposite direction of the exit, and duck into Hugo’s office.

Hugo looks up as I enter. He stands when he sees it’s me. “Esther. Close the door.”

I do.

He motions toward one of the chairs facing his desk but I stay standing. Since I don’t sit, neither does he. We look at each other.

He sighs. “There’s no easy way to tell you this.”

I swallow thickly. “Just say it. The quicker the better. Don’t draw out the pain.”

“I spoke with my colleagues,” he says, and I know he means the Whisperers. “They’ve agreed to help you – but only if you break up with Miles Hamilton.”

The words hit me like a shockwave. Maybe I need to sit down afterwards. I angle myself in front of one of the chairs and then slump down into it. I don’t collapse, but it’s close.

Hugo stays standing. Watching me closely, he says, “I’m sorry, Esther.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I say. The words I’m saying are true, but why does it then hurt so much? “We were never really a couple. We definitely didn’t have any kind of future.”

“Still,” Hugo says, oddly sympathetic.

There’s pity in his eyes that hurts to look at so I duck my head, dropping my glance away.

“So…” I force my voice. “If we split, the Whisperers will help? They’ll make that photo disappear?”

“Yes,” Hugo says. “They’ve already made moves to intercept it. But everyone is holding, waiting for your answer.”

“My answer is yes, of course,” I tell him. “I’ll call it off. How can I not?”

Hugo finally sits. He reaches for his phone and brings it to his ear. A moment passes, then he says, “She’s agreed.” Pulling the phone from his ear, he ends the call.

The photo, the relationship – both done away with, just like that. One phone call. Two words.

She’s agreed.

How am I ever going to tell Miles?

I find strength, remembering the question and answer session I watched, where he denied our relationship. Maybe Miles already knows this is how things will end up.

Maybe I’ve only ever just been strung along.

“You should let Miles know as soon as possible,” Hugo says. “We don’t want to have any mix-ups on this. If the Whisperers believe you are attempting to deceive them, they will not treat you kindly if another request arises… or if this one resurfaces.”

“I understand…” I didn’t like the underlying threat there, but I could hear it loud and clear.

“I will protect you as much as I am able,” Hugo said.

“Thank you, Hugo…” While I appreciate the thought, I doubt Hugo has all that much power. He’s just another cog in the wheel.

Knowing that he wants to keep me safe is enough to keep me steady. For now.

Wordlessly, I head back to my desk. I gather my things and make my way out to the car. I’m delaying the inevitable, walking slowly, taking the far way around the parking lot.

When I reach my car, however, I can’t delay anymore. Unlocking my phone, I type a message to Miles.

I’m sorry. It’s over.