Page 95 of Ink and Ashes
“Is everything okay?” I ask as I rush through the front door of The Scarlet, Colson hot on my heels.
Mary and Emmett stand there, a look of betrayal on their faces.
“What happened?” I ask hesitantly. I glance around the lobby, seeing if anything else seems out of the ordinary, but nothing does.
Mary just clicks her tongue while Emmett shakes his head, glaring at me. I glance up at Colson, whose brows are pulled tight in confusion.
I shoot the Montgomerys another confused look before I make my way toward the room I’ve been staying in. The door is swung wide open to display the room covered from top to bottom in newspaper articles. A sharp intake of breath escapes me as my eyes scan the room, and I realize why they were looking at me that way.
Investigative Journalist or Manipulative Fraud?
The Truth About Hollis Rothwell’s Ethical Violations
From Exposé to Exposed: Hollis Rothwell’s Shocking Downfall
Trusted Journalist Caught in a Web of Lies and Corruption
The Hollis Rothwell Scandal: How Ambition Led to Betrayal
Once a Star Journalist, Now a Disgrace
A dozen more articles just like those stare back at me as I take in the state of my room. In addition to the articles littering the walls, all the files I’ve put together over the course of my investigation are strewn throughout the room carelessly.
“No,” I say out loud, shaking my head. “No, no, no.” My heart drops into my stomach as my eyes scan the headlines, each one detailing the case I was framed for back home that led to me being fired and blacklisted.
I should’ve known better than to think it wouldn’t follow me here.
“Whoa,” Colson says from behind me as he takes a look at the room. For a moment, I’d forgotten he was here.
“Who’s Hollis Rothwell?” Mary asks.
Iturn back to face them, tears welling in my eyes. “I am.”
They frown, confirming that they read the articles.
“But this isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” I tell them, panic clear in my voice. “I was framed. That’s why I’m here. I’ve been trying to redeem myself and prove that this”—I rip one of the articles off the wall, holding it up—“isn’t true.”
They both just stare at me, as if trying to decide whether to believe me or not.
“She’s telling the truth,” Colson says to Mary and Emmett. “Dom and I have known about this for a while now. All of these articles are fabricated.”
They glance between each other, and Mary’s shoulders fall.
“So you’ve been using an alias this whole time?” she asks, and my heart breaks a little.
I jerk my head.
Emmett hums. “Rothwell as in Ontario’s premier?”
“The one and only,” I say, sadness dripping in my tone.
Emmett blows out a breath, and I swear I see tears in Mary’s eyes.
“There’s a reason I didn’t tell anyone. This is it.” My voice cracks on the last word. “Do you know who did this?”
Mary shakes her head. “We were at the service like everyone else, and the place was locked up. When we came back, the door to your room was ajar. We knew you were still down at the station, and no one else was here, so Emmett checked it out and found this. We checked the footage from the front door, but there was no sign of anyone.”
Colson makes his way over to the bedroom window. It’s in the locked position, but when he lifts it slightly, it opens with ease.
