(Hannah’s POV) The next morning, I was at Blackstone Publishing by 7:30 a.m. sharp—caffeinated, dressed in my most professional outfit, and ready to prove I could handle this assignment. I wish I could say my nerves weren’t eating me alive, but that would be a huge lie. They were. This wasn’t just some small rewrite assignment. This was my first real chance to be taken seriously. And if I messed up? Well, let’s just say I wasn’t going to give Nathaniel Rhodes the satisfaction of thinking I couldn’t handle it. I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor, my fingers tightening around the folder Nathaniel had given me. The details inside were thin—a nightclub downtown had burned down overnight, the fire department had ruled it as suspicious, and the police were holding a press conference at 8 a.m. to address it. There were whispers that the owner of the club had powerful connections, which meant this wasn’t just about a fire—it was about who wa
(Hannah’s POV) Nathaniel walked ahead, his long strides making it difficult for me to keep up. He didn’t look back, didn’t check if I was following—just assumed I would. “Sir, where exactly are we going?” I asked, adjusting the strap of my bag. “To do real journalism,” he said, not glancing back. I sighed, why was he like this Still, I pushed the thought aside and adjusted my bag, my notebook tucked under my arm as I followed him down the street towards his car. He unlocked it without ceremony and slid into the driver’s seat. “Get in.” I hesitated for a brief second before obeying, smoothing my skirt as I sat. “Sir, I was under the impression that uhm interns usually-". "Interns don't get handed real stories, you want to prove yourself?, then sit down and take notes" he cut in. Well, when he puts it like that. I adjusted my seatbelt and sat back in silence, s he drove out of the parking lot, the traffic noise filling the void. I waited for him to say something befo
I had spent the past few days buried in case files, my fingers stained with highlighter marks as I sifted through endless reports. At first, the details felt like noise—just a collection of random fires scattered around the city. But the more I looked, the more I started to see a pattern. The first fire had been at a small business owned by an elderly couple. The second one, a local community center. Each incident seemed isolated at first, but I realized there was more to this than I had thought. I was close to something. I didn't know what it was but I could feel it. I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair, and then my phone buzzed. It was a message from Nathaniel. "Meet me in the break room in 10." I didn’t even have to ask why. Nathaniel and I had been working together on the case, but I had started doing most of the legwork. He’d show up when necessary, but mostly, he just seemed… distracted. I didn’t understand it. He had the experience, he was the head of i
(Hannah’s POV) The smell of burnt wood and ash still lingered in the air as I stepped over the caution tape. The building had been nothing more than a quiet corner bookstore—one I’d passed dozens of times without much thought. Now, it was a skeleton of charred beams and shattered glass. I swallowed hard. Standing here, in the middle of what was once a thriving business, made everything feel more real. This wasn’t just a story; it was someone’s life in ruins. Nathaniel walked a few steps ahead of me, his hands shoved in his pockets as he studied the wreckage. The morning sun reflected off the broken windows, casting sharp shadows across his face. He looked… distant. I clutched my notepad tighter. “The fire report said it started in the storage room,” I said, scanning the area. “The owner, Mr. Langston, barely made it out in time. If he hadn’t smelled the smoke…” I let the sentence hang, the implication clear. Nathaniel didn’t respond. I glanced at him, waiting for some kind
I had barely settled into my seat when a familiar voice made me freeze. “The report on last night’s fire.” Nathaniel. I looked up just as he dropped a folder on my desk without so much as a glance my way. I barely had time to respond before he was already walking off toward his own desk, sleeves rolled up, posture rigid. I exhaled sharply. Of course. No “good morning,” no instructions. Just another case dumped on me while he pretended I didn’t exist. But I wasn’t going to let him keep dismissing me. I grabbed the file and followed him to his desk. “Sir, what exactly am I looking for?” I asked, keeping my voice professional but firm. Nathaniel finally looked at me, his cold gray eyes scanning me like I was an annoying pop-up ad on his screen. “Patterns,” he said simply. “If you’re going to be working on this case, you should be able to find them yourself.” I clenched my jaw, refusing to let his indifference get to me. “And if I do find something?” “Then we’ll talk.” I stared
The offices of Montgomery & Chase were exactly what I expected—polished, intimidating, and completely impersonal. The air smelled of expensive coffee and fresh ink, and the walls were lined with framed case victories, as if reminding visitors that this firm didn’t lose. Nathaniel and I stepped through the glass doors, and I adjusted my blazer, trying to look more confident than I felt. This was my first real field assignment, and while I wasn’t about to admit it, I was nervous. Nathaniel, on the other hand, looked completely at ease—bored, even. He barely glanced around as he approached the receptionist. “Nathaniel Rhodes. We’re here to see one of your senior partners regarding an ongoing investigation.” The receptionist, a sharp-eyed woman with dark-rimmed glasses, barely looked impressed. “Do you have an appointment?” Nathaniel exhaled, clearly expecting this. “Tell Mr. Ashford that it concerns recent fire-related incidents.” Her gaze flickered with something- Recognition? Ei
The sound of my keyboard filled the quiet space around me, a rhythmic tapping that matched the beat of my thoughts. Notes, timelines, theories—I had everything in front of me, yet the pieces still didn’t fit. The fires weren’t random. I could feel it. But without solid proof, it was just a gut feeling. I sighed, rubbing my temples. The newsroom bustled with activity, but at my little desk, it felt like I was working alone. Well, almost alone. I looked over at the other interns, I never really knew what they were up to. Nathaniel never really gave us what to do aside from a few reports to write here and there. If I hadn't been doing this fire case with him, I'd be almost jobless. I glanced toward Nathaniel’s office. He sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up, fingers lazily spinning a pen between them as he stared at his screen. His expression was unreadable, but I had been around him long enough to know when someone was just pretending to work. He had barely contributed to the investiga
It was small. A spark, a flicker—something so insignificant that it should never have changed his life. But it did. Nathaniel remembered the way the flames spread, slow at first, creeping along the edges of the old curtains before swallowing them whole. He remembered the thick, suffocating smoke curling toward the ceiling, the acrid scent of burning wood and fabric stinging his throat. His hands trembled as he tried but couldn't put it out, his heart pounding in his chest. "Nate, stay back!" Her voice was the last clear thing he heard before the fire roared to life. His mind raced through every possible escape, but all he could hear was the relentless crackling of the flames, closing in, wrapping around him like a living, breathing thing. The heat blistered his skin, the air too thick to breathe. He could barely see through the haze, barely think past the panic. She was inside, inside that fire. He had to save her. He tried. He called her name, over and over, his tiny voice
The sound of my keyboard filled the quiet space around me, a rhythmic tapping that matched the beat of my thoughts. Notes, timelines, theories—I had everything in front of me, yet the pieces still didn’t fit. The fires weren’t random. I could feel it. But without solid proof, it was just a gut feeling. I sighed, rubbing my temples. The newsroom bustled with activity, but at my little desk, it felt like I was working alone. Well, almost alone. I looked over at the other interns, I never really knew what they were up to. Nathaniel never really gave us what to do aside from a few reports to write here and there. If I hadn't been doing this fire case with him, I'd be almost jobless. I glanced toward Nathaniel’s office. He sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up, fingers lazily spinning a pen between them as he stared at his screen. His expression was unreadable, but I had been around him long enough to know when someone was just pretending to work. He had barely contributed to the investiga
The offices of Montgomery & Chase were exactly what I expected—polished, intimidating, and completely impersonal. The air smelled of expensive coffee and fresh ink, and the walls were lined with framed case victories, as if reminding visitors that this firm didn’t lose. Nathaniel and I stepped through the glass doors, and I adjusted my blazer, trying to look more confident than I felt. This was my first real field assignment, and while I wasn’t about to admit it, I was nervous. Nathaniel, on the other hand, looked completely at ease—bored, even. He barely glanced around as he approached the receptionist. “Nathaniel Rhodes. We’re here to see one of your senior partners regarding an ongoing investigation.” The receptionist, a sharp-eyed woman with dark-rimmed glasses, barely looked impressed. “Do you have an appointment?” Nathaniel exhaled, clearly expecting this. “Tell Mr. Ashford that it concerns recent fire-related incidents.” Her gaze flickered with something- Recognition? Ei
I had barely settled into my seat when a familiar voice made me freeze. “The report on last night’s fire.” Nathaniel. I looked up just as he dropped a folder on my desk without so much as a glance my way. I barely had time to respond before he was already walking off toward his own desk, sleeves rolled up, posture rigid. I exhaled sharply. Of course. No “good morning,” no instructions. Just another case dumped on me while he pretended I didn’t exist. But I wasn’t going to let him keep dismissing me. I grabbed the file and followed him to his desk. “Sir, what exactly am I looking for?” I asked, keeping my voice professional but firm. Nathaniel finally looked at me, his cold gray eyes scanning me like I was an annoying pop-up ad on his screen. “Patterns,” he said simply. “If you’re going to be working on this case, you should be able to find them yourself.” I clenched my jaw, refusing to let his indifference get to me. “And if I do find something?” “Then we’ll talk.” I stared
(Hannah’s POV) The smell of burnt wood and ash still lingered in the air as I stepped over the caution tape. The building had been nothing more than a quiet corner bookstore—one I’d passed dozens of times without much thought. Now, it was a skeleton of charred beams and shattered glass. I swallowed hard. Standing here, in the middle of what was once a thriving business, made everything feel more real. This wasn’t just a story; it was someone’s life in ruins. Nathaniel walked a few steps ahead of me, his hands shoved in his pockets as he studied the wreckage. The morning sun reflected off the broken windows, casting sharp shadows across his face. He looked… distant. I clutched my notepad tighter. “The fire report said it started in the storage room,” I said, scanning the area. “The owner, Mr. Langston, barely made it out in time. If he hadn’t smelled the smoke…” I let the sentence hang, the implication clear. Nathaniel didn’t respond. I glanced at him, waiting for some kind
I had spent the past few days buried in case files, my fingers stained with highlighter marks as I sifted through endless reports. At first, the details felt like noise—just a collection of random fires scattered around the city. But the more I looked, the more I started to see a pattern. The first fire had been at a small business owned by an elderly couple. The second one, a local community center. Each incident seemed isolated at first, but I realized there was more to this than I had thought. I was close to something. I didn't know what it was but I could feel it. I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair, and then my phone buzzed. It was a message from Nathaniel. "Meet me in the break room in 10." I didn’t even have to ask why. Nathaniel and I had been working together on the case, but I had started doing most of the legwork. He’d show up when necessary, but mostly, he just seemed… distracted. I didn’t understand it. He had the experience, he was the head of i
(Hannah’s POV) Nathaniel walked ahead, his long strides making it difficult for me to keep up. He didn’t look back, didn’t check if I was following—just assumed I would. “Sir, where exactly are we going?” I asked, adjusting the strap of my bag. “To do real journalism,” he said, not glancing back. I sighed, why was he like this Still, I pushed the thought aside and adjusted my bag, my notebook tucked under my arm as I followed him down the street towards his car. He unlocked it without ceremony and slid into the driver’s seat. “Get in.” I hesitated for a brief second before obeying, smoothing my skirt as I sat. “Sir, I was under the impression that uhm interns usually-". "Interns don't get handed real stories, you want to prove yourself?, then sit down and take notes" he cut in. Well, when he puts it like that. I adjusted my seatbelt and sat back in silence, s he drove out of the parking lot, the traffic noise filling the void. I waited for him to say something befo
(Hannah’s POV) The next morning, I was at Blackstone Publishing by 7:30 a.m. sharp—caffeinated, dressed in my most professional outfit, and ready to prove I could handle this assignment. I wish I could say my nerves weren’t eating me alive, but that would be a huge lie. They were. This wasn’t just some small rewrite assignment. This was my first real chance to be taken seriously. And if I messed up? Well, let’s just say I wasn’t going to give Nathaniel Rhodes the satisfaction of thinking I couldn’t handle it. I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor, my fingers tightening around the folder Nathaniel had given me. The details inside were thin—a nightclub downtown had burned down overnight, the fire department had ruled it as suspicious, and the police were holding a press conference at 8 a.m. to address it. There were whispers that the owner of the club had powerful connections, which meant this wasn’t just about a fire—it was about who wa
(Hannah’s POV) The rest of my first day passed in a blur of coffee-fueled determination and me biting my tongue every time Nathaniel Rhodes walked by. By the time my shift was over, I had rewritten four press releases, proofread a minor article, and resisted the urge to throw my stapler at Nathaniel’s perfectly unbothered face. I was exhausted. Exhausted, that's an understatement. It was my first day and I already felt this way. But I refused to let him get to me. I packed up my things, shoving my papers into my bag with maybe a little more force than necessary. As I did, I caught sight of Nathaniel in his office, still standing by the window, the glow of the city skyline casting long shadows across his face. He looked... different. Not cold. Not intimidating. Just... tired. I blinked, Nope. Not falling for it. Nathaniel Rhodes was an emotionless, ego-driven robot, and I wasn’t about to start looking for depth where there was none. I turned away, slinging my b
(Hannah’s POV) The newsroom was a beast—fast-moving, loud, and completely intimidating. Phones rang. Keys clacked against keyboards at lightning speed. People shouted over each other, throwing out headlines and edits. It was everything I imagined and more. And I was standing in the middle of it, trying not to look completely lost. I took a deep breath and focused on my desk, pretending I knew exactly what I was doing. The file the manager gave us sat unopened in front of me. Should I go through it? Ask someone what to do? Wait for instructions? Before I could decide, a deep voice cut through the chaos. “Interns, listen up.” I turned, and there he was—Nathaniel Rhodes. The man in charge of us. The man who, up until this moment, hadn’t even looked our way. Now that I saw him up close, I understood why people fell silent when he spoke. He had this calm, effortless authority, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to be noticed. His dark hair was neatly styled, his sleev