Page 48 of A Smile Full of Lies
“…what do you mean you want to dissolve Stonewood Living, sir?”
I froze.
That voice wasn’t some neighbor on the phone with their boss. It came from the kitchen. Panicked. Male. And then came the reply — his reply.
Knox’s voice was eerily calm.
“I mean exactly what I said. I want to dissolve Stonewood Living magazine, and I want to do so immediately.”
I crept toward the hall, pressing into the shadows as though I could melt into the drywall, pulse hammering as I eavesdropped.
I risked a glance around the corner. A mirror hung on the hallway wall, tilted just right to catch a view of the kitchen island. My breath stalled.
There he was.
Not the brooding neighbor in hoodies and boots. Not the man who grilled burgers barefoot on the back porch like he didn’t have fifteen million dollars in the bank. No. This was someone else. Someone infinitely more dangerous.
Knox was shirtless, his shoulders broad and carved like he’d been born for battle, gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, bare feet braced casually against the floor. A mug of coffee sat within easy reach. He took a slow sip, calm, as if the men on the call weren’t panicking for their livelihoods.
And the craziest part? His camera was off. All they saw was his profile photo — stone-faced and immaculate in a suit — while he got to seeall of them.
The imbalance of power made my skin buzz.
“Sir, dissolving Stonewood Living over one incident is extreme,” someone begged.
“Extreme?” Knox’s voice was steady, almost lazy, but the edge under it could cut glass.
Sam Myers’s voice bled through, oily and defensive.
“Rosalind Cooper came onto me. She?—”
Knox set his mug down with a controlled click. Not loud or dramatic, but the sound still crawled up my spine.
“Don’t lie to me, Sam.” His voice was quiet, lethal. “You told her she should be on her knees if she wanted the job. That isn’t a misunderstanding. That’s you being a piece of shit.”
“Sir, with respect,” another voice cut in, “can’t we just fire Sam and move on? Shutting down the magazine entirely?—”
“Is non-negotiable.” Knox’s voice didn’t rise, but it turned cold and calculating. “I was up all night reading the issues you’ve put out in the last year. I also pulled the security footage after Rosalind told me what Sam suggested she write. I took notes.”
Sam broke in, desperate, oily.
“She twisted my words. I only said she’d be more successful if she leaned into what sells?—”
Knox snorted and shook his head.
“I’ve lived next door to Rosalind Cooper for the past seven years. I know exactly what kind of woman she is. I’d take her word over yours in a heartbeat. Don’t make me email the board the security footage to prove it — because I will, and when I do, it’ll be your face plastered all over the internet as the reason this company is being dismantled.”
“You can’t fucking do this over one goddamn joke that got taken the wrong way,” Sam whined.
Knox cut him off, cold and precise.
“No. I heard every word, and I watched the security footage myself. You skimmed her résumé with barely disguised boredomand said, and I quote:‘You’ve got some chops. But all this serious shit? No one here reads that. You wanna make it in this town, you gotta write what sells. Sex sells.’” Sam made a strangled noise, somewhere between shock and frustration, but Knox wasn’t finished and kept talking over him. “Then you told her:‘Blowjob breakdowns. Confessions from your latest fuck. You could be the face of a new section. Local girl gives the people what they want.’That’s not advice, Sam. That’s harassment. And it tells me everything I need to know about the culture this board has been enabling.”
A nervous throat cleared.
“Mr. Knox — surely your mother wouldn’t want?—”
“Don’t you dare invoke my mother.” The words landed like a nuclear bomb. “She foundedStonewood Livingto showcase this city’s brilliance. Its art. Its history. Its people. She’d be ashamed of the slop you’ve been publishing lately. I let you run it for four years. That ends today. You’ve gutted her vision and turned it into a rag. You’re done. All of you.”
