Page 22 of My Secret Santa Clayton

“It's not your fault.” I sank onto the couch, feeling the weight of my reality. “We knew digging into corruption was risky.”

“But you're scared,” he pushed, knowing me too well.

“Terrified,” I admitted. “Haven't finished the article. But if I stop now, they win. I can't let that happen.”

“Grace—” His voice was low and concerned.

“The truth has to come out, Rob. It just does.” I stood up, shaking off the fear. “I owe it to the story, to myself. And…”

“Yes?”

“It wasn’t just the note,” I admitted. “My informants, Greg and Jessica—they got killed because of the story. It wasn’t a drug deal gone wrong.”

Rob went quiet, and we both sat there in stunned silence for a second.

“Well, fuck me,” Rob muttered. “Grace…maybe you should just let this one lie. You know the risk?—”

“Risk be damned!” I cut in. “They had families, hopes...they trusted me. No justice? I'm finishing the piece. They deserve that. I need that.”

“Grace—”

“This isn't just another story,” I said, my voice cracking. “This is it. This is the one that counts.”

“Grace, you need to sit on this one. No story is worth your life.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, pacing. The darkness outside pressed against the windows. “You're not the one they're after.”

He hadn’t faced this kind of danger before. This kind of dealing…it killed my dad and destroyed my family.

Seeking justice was all I had.

I had to do this.

“That’s exactly why I can see things clearly,” Rob went on. “You're too close to it, Grace. You're playing with fire here.”

“Fire seems to be my element these days.” I stopped by the window, watching snowflakes drift down. The world outside looked peaceful.

I knew better than that.

“Dammit, Grace! Listen to me. Lay low. Let us handle it,” he insisted.

I sighed. “Fine. For now. But if you don't find anything soon?—”

“We will. Just...stay safe, okay?”

“Always do,” was a lie. I ended the call.

I moved through the house, fingers trailing along the mantel. I switched on the Christmas tree lights. The room lit up. Colors danced on the walls.

I paused, savoring the moment.

The tree, with its baubles and tinsel, symbolized normalcy. A simple red ornament caught my eye. It reflected the lights, the room, and me.

But I was just a shadow of my former self. I looked...haunted.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

Shaking my head, I headed to the bedroom. I texted Mariah to call when she was near. Sleep seemed unlikely. I just wanted to rest. Lying in cold sheets, my mind replayed Rob's warning about a lurking threat.

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