Find the truth.
Fifth year in. Three years at the top of the ratings. That didn't happen by accident.
On the monitor, Noah wrapped the last few sound bites, his voice unhurried and warm, giving the man a graceful exit he hadn't earned. That was the other thing about Noah—he never made them bleed out completely. He got what he needed, let them walk away with some dignity intact, and somehow thatmade it worse for them because there was nothing to push back against. Just Noah Chase with a mix of courteous and devastation, and a handshake at the end of the worst forty-five minutes of their professional life.
Her crew locked in for the final countdown. Graphics rolling, Kylie's social feeds running live across every platform.
Ziggy paced the back of the room one last time. Nothing was wrong—if something were going sideways, it would've happened long before now. But she had a ritual, and she never broke it.
Never.
"Relax," Andrew said. "You and Noah nailed it again."
She planted her hands on her hips and held her breath until the green light went red and Noah looked through the glass and smiled.
Then she let herself breathe.
"Great show." Andrew squeezed her arm. "I'll be honest—I wasn't sure he'd bring that one home. But he did."
Ziggy pulled off her headset. In five years, Noah had let a few stories go belly up, a few more end flat. But not often. "I always had faith."
“I’m not surprised.” Andrew smiled. "I'll be in my office for another half hour. See you tomorrow."
She worked her way through the post-broadcast routine, checking each position and releasing her crew for the night. She was gathering her things when Claire Harlow, one of the station's news researchers, appeared in the doorway, holding an envelope in both hands.
"This came for Mr. Chase during the broadcast." Claire kept her voice down like Ziggy had drilled into all of them, but Claire always had this annoying high-pitched squeal, even when she was whispering. "Private courier at the front desk. I thought it might be story-related. A source, maybe?" She smiled like she’d done a great service.
Ziggy took it. Noah's name was handwritten on the front. No return address. She always worried when anything came, especially on his birthday. "Thanks. I'll make sure he gets it."
"Could I have your ear for one more minute?" Claire hooked a hand behind her elbow and rocked on her heels—a nervous habit Ziggy had clocked early on. "I was hoping to follow some leads on the Carlson story. It's two months out, not a huge story, but I have some background in data mining, and my brother’s in the field. He could help."
"Sure." Ziggy nodded. "Just run everything by Noah and me first, and remember the shows and stories you’re actually assigned to come first. I’m only allowing this because you did good work the last time, and I understand drive and ambition.”
Claire's face lit up. She turned on her heels and was out the door before Ziggy could say another word.
Ziggy laughed. She remembered being that young and that green and that certain the next story would change everything. Okay, she was still excited about her job. Young, she was not. She flung her bag over her shoulder and headed down the corridor.
Three knocks. A breath. Then she waited.
"Open."
Alone. Good. She hated herself a little for being glad, because it shouldn't matter. It didn't mean anything. He always ended up alone eventually—not for lack of options, but because he kept picking women who couldn't tell the difference between the news and gossip and cared more about being seen with him than knowing him.
His jacket was over the sofa, tie loosened, feet up on the counter like he hadn't a care in the world. He caught her gaze in the mirror.
"You cut that one close," she said. "Four minutes to spare."
"Six."
"You need a clock." She dropped into the chair across from his vanity and crossed her legs. "Happy birthday."
He pointed at her in the mirror. "You know I hate?—"
"Two words. Happy birthday. That's the whole thing." She set her bag on the floor. "Because it's important to celebrate the people we're grateful for."
"You sound like your sister-in-law, Callie."
"She's a smart woman. Moving on."