Chapter 148

Taking Kimberly’s advice, as soon as I go home, I eat and then head to bed. I’ve been truly running on empty all day so it doesn’t take me long to fall fast asleep.

When I wake up the next morning, I feel refreshed and ready for the day’s challenges. I still don’t know where my article could have gone, but I’m determined to find it. So I prepare for work, dressing and then heading into the kitchen to eat a quick breakfast.

As I eat my oatmeal, I open the Harbinger News Company app on my phone to check on the latest stories coming out. The one at the top nearly has me dropping my phone straight into the bowl.

Representative Franco Launders Money Into Blood Bank For Prostitutes.

That’s my story.

I click on the article. Yes, word for word, this is my work.

For a brief moment, relief fills me. Maybe Kimberly found it after I left and pushed it forward for me.

But then I reach the end of the article and see the reporter created with writing the article.

Right there, in name and picture, is Sabrina.

Fury fills me in an instant. Sabrina and I haven’t always gotten along, but we were co-workers! How could she have stolen this from me?

Enraged, I toss my oatmeal in the sink, then grab my things and head to work.

The length of the drive, complete with extra traffic today, does cool my righteous anger somewhat. After all, without the original copy, I can’t go in and just accuse her. I need proof.

I spoke with Kimberly about my article. Perhaps she could back me up. But even then, it’s only hearsay. Kimberly didn’t get a chance to actually read the article.

I could go to Hugo. He would believe me, I’m sure, but if he were to stand up for me, especially without proof, those executives who disapprove of his relationship with me, would only be even more incited.

The person I really need to talk to is Sabrina.

So after I park and head into the office, I start to make a B-line straight for Sabrina’s desk.

Before I can get there, Kimberly cuts me off.

“This won’t solve anything,” she says, as if she expected this.

“Sabrina stole my article,” I whisper to Kimberly, not wanting the accusation to float around needlessly. Without proof, our co-workers would likely take Sabrina’s side.

“Into my office,” Kimberly says.

I frown at her. Sabrina is the one I want to talk to.

Yet as I turn to obey, I notice Kimberly doesn’t follow me. Instead, she goes to Sabrina’s desk. Sabrina stands and starts to head to the office too.

Good. We can have our discussion, then. And with privacy, I can say exactly what I mean to without worry our co-workers will chastise me.

Walking into Kimberly’s office, I choose not to sit down. Instead I walk to the far wall, turn around and cross my arms.

Sabrina enters next, smirking at me.

Kimberly comes in last, closing the door behind us.

“Sabrina,” Kimberly says. “Esther has an accusation.”

“You stole my article,” I snap.

Sabrina shrugs her shoulders. “Prove it.”

Kimberly moves around to behind her desk and sits down. “Yesterday, Esther did mention to me that she was working on this specific article. Then it goes missing as she is to send it to me.”

“She probably saw me working on it,” Sabrina says. “Maybe she intended to steal it from me.”

“I would never!”

“I also find it curious,” Kimberly calmly continues, “That you chose not to send this article directly to me. Instead, you went over my head and sent it to one of the executives.”

Sabrina shrugs. “I wanted to make sure the story made it through. I trust your judgement most of the time, Kimberly, but this story was too big to leave to chance.”

Kimberly frowns as she leans back in her chair.

“If you have any evidence that I stole this story, I’m willing to entertain this conversation,” Sabrina says. “But without it, I don’t see why I should.” Her eyes lift to mine. “Unless you want to run to Mr. Harbinger about it. I hear he is quite fond of you, Esther.”

Immediately, I regret giving up my job search so easily.

“I know you did it,” I say.

“Does it matter? You are too old school, Esther, trusting those around you. Just because we work in the same office does not make us friends. I’ve evolved. I’ve adapted. I can make it in this new world we’re living in. But you? So trusting and good-natured… Esther, you aren’t cut out for this business, and I think it’s time you accept that.”

“That’s enough, Sabrina,” Kimberly says.

“After all,” Sabrina continues, “The only reason you are hear is because you sucked Mr. Harbinger’s dick –“

“I said, that’s enough!” Kimberly shoots up to her feet.

Sabrina looks from me to Kimberly. “I’m done. For now.” To me, she says, “Good luck trying to prove any of this, Esther.”

With a laugh, she turns, swings the door open, and steps out.

I deflate like a popped balloon, feeling utterly defeated.

The worst part is, maybe she’s right. I have been too trusting, seeing this group of reporters more as a team than as competition. I thought we were working toward a common goal of good journalism, not toward making a name for our individual selves.

Maybe I’m really not cut out for this business.

“It was a good article,” Kimberly says. “I’m sure you can write another one, Esther. But next time, keep it secret, alright? And send it to me right away.”

“Right…” I say, nodding. “Of course.”

Maybe part of the reason I agreed to giving up this job so easily wasn’t just for Hugo. Maybe I just really don’t like it here.

I want to be a good reporter, but not at the cost of my integrity or my good nature.

To stay, I almost feel like I have to give up my soul.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off,” Kimberly says. “I know you have sick days.”

She pushed for me to take those sick days yesterday. I’m beginning to see a trend. Although with the way things are right now, maybe I should just go home. Reevaluate my life. Maybe cry into my cereal.

Skipping breakfast, I am hungry.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I tell her.

“We’ll be expecting you.”

In the car, before I head home, I want to talk to someone. I don’t want to just go home to an empty house and feel alone again. Maybe I could meet someone for lunch. Even a quick phone call might give me the strength to go on alone.

But who should I call? Cynthia is always an option.

But Hugo should be the one I want to talk to. As the man I am dating, I should depend on him to help lift my spirits when I’m feeling down. And I know he wants to do that. It’s why he’s always telling me I can talk to him.

I flip through my contacts and call.

The phone rings a few times, then a man answers.

“Esther?”

Wait. That’s not Hugo.

I pull the phone away from my face and check the screen.

I called Miles!