Page 168 of Between the Lines

There’s a brief pause on the other end. “I understand. I don’t wish to cause any offense, but your name will be mentioned in passing, at the very least. The treatment of you on that show was a watershed moment in dating shows and reality television. Especially the media attention you received following your appearance.”

My breath is coming fast. “What?”

“I want to hear your side,” she says. “It’s important?—”

“Why are you investigating this? Why now? Why are you writing this article?” I demand. My voice sounds high-pitched, even to my own ears.

There’s a helicopter flying out over the city. I watch it—a tiny, insignificant speck in the sky. But it doesn’t deviate from its path. It’s determined and persistent like a fly.

“Well,” she says, and her voice has softened as if she’s talking to a child. I can hear it and realize it’s because of me, and my reaction. “This article is part of an independent investigation, here at theGlobe, and it’s integral in our initiative to tell more female-led stories.”

I grip the back of the sofa. “You said you’ve done some digging. Who are your sources? Who have you spoken to?”

“I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid. Not all of them. But I think it’s worth noting, Charlotte, that I have been in direct contact with Titan Media.”

I pause. “Sorry. You’vewhat?”

“Titan Media is aware of our investigation,” she says. “That is not something I wish for you to pass on, however. But I do want you to know that I’m confident you won’t face any kind of legal backlash for speaking out. They’re welcoming an independent investigation.”

I scoff. “Really? When do corporations ever welcome scrutiny?”

“Normally I would agree with you,” she replies, “but I’ve had personal reassurances. From the very top.”

“From the very top,” I repeat. The words come out slowly. “You’re talking about the executive team.”

“Yes, I am,” she says. Her voice turns earnest. “I can assure you, you’ll be protected through all of this. I would not ask you or any of the other contestants to tell their story if I wasn’t confident about this.”

My chest feels too tight. I take another breath, and then another, but the air doesn’t seem to make it into my lungs.

“Charlotte?”

“Did you talk to the CEO?” I ask.

“I can’t confirm that on the record,” Audrey says carefully, “but I have spoken with an individual in the highest reaches of the company. You have nothing to?—”

“I have to go.” I hang up and throw the phone away, at Aiden’s giant couch, like it’s on fire.

He knows about this. Of course he does. But he must not have expected the journalist to reveal so much.

My skin crawls, bugs scurrying about beneath its surface. I’m already racing across his living room and up the stairs. I take them two at a time.

I spend the next hour googling. The newspaper in question, the journalist, finding her on social media, and the kind of stories she writes.

Everything checks out.

What the hell, Aiden?

I walk the length of the hallway between our two bedrooms. Back and forth. Back and forth. The itch is only getting stronger.

Why is he doing this? What game is he playing now?

My anonymity iseverything.I thought we’d spoken about this. Why would he want a piece written that would expose his own production company’s mistakes?

Whatever the reason, he’s done it without asking me. Without telling me about it first.

I should sit down and write. Finish his memoir, yes, but also work on my book proposal. Which he’s also been pushing me to write.

To tell my story.

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