Page 84 of Lady and the Hitman
“I know.”
“But it feels—” I broke off. My throat tightened. “It feels like lying.”
Another pause.
“I’m not going to tell you how to do your job,” hesaid. “But for what it’s worth? You don’t have to lie. You just have to choose which truths to protect.”
The words made something shift inside me.
“I’m seeing you tonight,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“You are.”
I swallowed. “Where?”
“My place.”
A beat passed. “Johns Island?”
“Yes.”
“You know how close that is to my parents, right?”
“I do.”
“Are you trying to blow up my life?”
We didn’t speak for a moment.
Then he said, “If you want to cancel?—”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
“I just needed to say it,” I added. “Out loud. That I’m terrified.”
“I know,” he said.
My throat burned.
“I have to go,” I whispered.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
He hung up first.
I stared at the screen long after it went dark. Then turned and ordered a coffee I wouldn’t drink and made my way back home.
By the time I got back to my desk, the piece was getting lots of attention. Headline blazing. Shares climbing. The notification count on my email creeping steadily higher.
I stared at the screen, rereading the first paragraph like it belonged to someone else. The voice was mine. The cadence. The structure. But not the truth.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself. I opened the CMS,clicked edit, and hovered over the blinking cursor for a full minute before typing:
"When men legislate morality, it is always women who bleed."
I hit update. Watched the timestamp refresh.
