Chapter 1 — The Assignment
Isabella
The newsroom hummed with its usual frantic energy—phones ringing, keyboards clattering, and voices overlapping in hurried exchanges. Isabella “Izzy” Hartley navigated the chaos with practiced ease, her leather-bound notebook tucked securely under her arm. The faint aroma of burnt coffee mingled with the sharper scent of printer toner as she passed the break room. A frazzled intern wrestled with a malfunctioning coffee machine, muttering curses under his breath. Isabella’s lips twitched in faint amusement, but her focus remained locked on the glass-walled office ahead, where Harold Decker waited. His silhouette was framed against the city skyline, a sentinel watching over the storm he was about to unleash.
Decker’s office was a stark departure from the newsroom’s bedlam. The walls were bare save for a single framed Pulitzer, hanging slightly askew, and the desk was free of clutter except for a neatly stacked pile of papers. Decker himself sat behind it, his graying hair as wild as ever, his sharp eyes scanning a document with the intensity of a hawk circling its prey. When Isabella knocked lightly on the doorframe, he looked up, his expression as unreadable as ever.
“Come in, Hartley,” he said, gesturing toward the chair opposite him.
She stepped inside, her heels clicking softly against the scuffed linoleum. Settling into the chair, she rested her notebook on her lap, her fingers brushing the familiar, worn leather. Decker leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied her.
“I’ve got a new assignment for you,” he began, his tone clipped. “High stakes. Big names. The kind of story that could either make your career or bury it.”
Her pulse quickened, but she kept her expression neutral, her professional mask firmly in place. Decker wasn’t one for hyperbole, and he certainly didn’t hand out assignments like this without good reason. “I’m listening.”
He slid a folder across the desk. “Data breach at Kane International. Thousands of identities compromised—financials, personal information, the whole nine yards. Potentially millions in damages. And at the center of it all? Your old friend, Liam Kane.”
Her breath caught, and for a split second, her composure faltered. Liam. The name hit her like a sharp gust of wind, carrying with it a storm of memories she’d long tried to suppress. She hesitated before opening the folder, her eyes scanning its contents: a timeline of the breach, a list of affected individuals, and a grainy photo of Liam from a recent press conference. Even in the low resolution, his piercing blue eyes seemed to drill into her, unyielding and distant.
“Why me?” she asked, forcing her voice to remain steady. “You’ve got a dozen other reporters who could handle this.”
Decker’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’re the best I’ve got. No one digs like you do. And because this one’s personal.”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “What do you mean, personal?”
Decker leaned forward, his hands resting on the desk. “Your sister’s name popped up on the list of compromised identities. I thought you’d want to dig into this.”
The air seemed to thicken around her. Isabella gripped the folder tighter, her knuckles whitening. “Tori’s involved?” She heard the slight tremor in her voice and hated it.
He nodded. “Her credit card info, her address, even her social security number. It’s all out there now, thanks to whoever orchestrated this mess. She’s not the only one, but I figured you’d want to make this right.”
A flicker of pain crossed her face as she looked down at the folder again, her thoughts a whirlwind of guilt and determination. Tori’s easy smile and carefree laugh surfaced in her mind, now overshadowed by the weight of financial trouble. This wasn’t just a story anymore; it was personal.
“I take it there’s more,” she said, her voice firmer now.
Decker smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Oh, there’s always more. Kane’s been stonewalling the press, refusing to let anyone dig too deep. But I’ve got a contact inside who says there’s something bigger at play. Internal sabotage, maybe even an executive trying to take him down. You’ll need to get close to him, Hartley. Real close.”
Her grip on the notebook tightened, the leather cool and familiar beneath her fingertips. “You mean use my history with him.”
Decker shrugged, his tone pragmatic. “If it gets you access, so be it. Look, I don’t care how you do it. Just get the story. And make sure it’s airtight. Kane’s got the resources to bury you—and this paper—if you screw up.”
She closed the folder, her jaw tightening. The thought of facing Liam again was daunting, but she couldn’t afford to shy away. Not with Tori’s livelihood—and her own integrity—on the line.
“And if I fail?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
Decker’s sharp gaze softened, but only slightly. “You won’t. You’ve got a knack for finding the truth, no matter how deep it’s buried. Use it.”
Isabella nodded slowly, rising from her seat. “When do I leave?”
“Tomorrow,” Decker replied. “Kane’s holed up in his mountain estate, so pack warm. And Hartley?”
She paused, one hand on the folder. “Yes?”
“Don’t let him get under your skin.”
A faint, sardonic smile tugged at her lips. “He’ll try.”
As Isabella left the office, the weight of the assignment settled on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. The newsroom’s cacophony seemed distant now, her thoughts consumed by the task ahead. She made her way back to her desk, flipping through the folder again, each detail adding to the gravity of the situation. The breach wasn’t just a technological failure; it was a betrayal on a massive scale, one that had left countless lives, including her sister’s, in turmoil. And at the center of it all was Liam Kane, the man she had once loved—and betrayed.
That night, back in her modest apartment, she sat at her desk, her notebook open in front of her. She hesitated before writing a single name: Liam Kane. The memories came flooding back unbidden. The way his eyes softened when he smiled, the warmth of his hand on hers, the fire in his voice when he spoke about his ambitions. And then, the look of betrayal when he found out about her exposé—the story that had skyrocketed her career but destroyed their relationship.
She closed the notebook with a snap, forcing the memories aside. This wasn’t about the past. It was about the truth—and about protecting her family.
Her gaze drifted to a framed photo on the desk: a snapshot of her and Tori as teenagers, arms slung around each other, both grinning with carefree abandon. She picked it up, her thumb brushing over the glass. “I’ll fix this,” she murmured softly, the words a promise as much to herself as to her sister.
The next morning, as the newsroom buzzed with its usual chaos, Isabella stood at the edge, her suitcase in one hand and her notebook in the other. She glanced back once, taking in the familiar noise—the clatter of keyboards, the hum of voices—before stepping into the elevator. As the doors closed, she took a deep breath. It was time to face the ghosts of her past—and the man she had never truly forgotten.
