That morning, no one paid attention to Nadia. She sat at the far end of the room, hunched over her keyboard, revising the same article Joy had rejected the other day. Having done the necessary corrections as she requested, Nadia headed to her office. Her door stood halfway ajar, Nadia knocked. Entered inside. Ms. Joy looked up from her desk and gave her a friendly smile "Welcome Nadia"
"Thank you." Nadia said politely "I have done the necessary corrections" she handed her the document.
"I'll go through it" Joy replied with a smile.
Nadia returned back to her seat. The fluorescent light above her buzzed incessantly, flickering every few minutes and casting a sickly pale glow on her scattered notes. 
Her phone vibrated. A text from Jayson: Still on for noon? We can grab lunch after.
Nadia typed back quickly: Yes. Need to get out of here before I disappear completely.
She glanced at the clock. 11:45. The minutes crawled.
"Working through lunch, Nadia?" 
She looked up to find Joy standing over her desk, arms crossed, lips pursed in that familiar expression of disapproval thinly veiled as concern.
"Actually, I have an appointment," Nadia replied, saving her document and closing the window.
Joy raised an eyebrow. "Anything I should know about?"
Did Tyrone ask Joy to monitor her? Well, she'll just need to endure and hope her plan with Jayson works out fine.
"Just personal business," Nadia said, keeping her voice steady. "Doctor's appointment. Using my lunch hour."
"Well, I just forwarded you an email, make sure you finish that piece by four. We're already short on content for tomorrow's edition." Joy turned and walked away before Nadia could respond.
At noon, she stood, smoothed her charcoal pencil skirt, tucked her white blouse in neatly, and walked out like she had purpose. She nodded to the receptionist, clutched her portfolio tighter, and pushed through the glass doors.
Outside, Jayson waited in his car, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm with whatever jazz piece was quietly playing. Nadia slipped in beside him and gave a tight smile, breathing in the comforting scent of his sandalwood cologne.
"You okay?" he asked, studying her face. His dark eyes were full of concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I am the ghost," she replied with a hollow laugh. "Joy asked me if I was working through lunch, and that's giving me concern."
"Who's Joy?"
"Oh... She's the chief at entertainment unit. Under the same umbrella with them."
"I see. She suddenly cares but don't worry" Jayson reached over and squeezed her hand. His palm was warm against her cold fingers. "We'll put an end to this, Nadi. Remember that."
"You ready?" he asked, turning the key in the ignition.
She nodded, clutching her portfolio to her chest. Inside were her best clips, her resume, a recommendation letter from her old professor at Riverton University—everything she needed for this interview. "Let's see if Nexus TV is any different."
"It's television—of course it's different," Jayson said with a small smile. "Better lighting, for one thing."
Nadia allowed herself a short laugh. "I just mean... different culture. Less suffocating."
They didn't speak much on the drive across town. The radio played softly in the background—a news report about city budget cuts. Once upon a time, she would have analyzed every word, looking for the angle, the story behind the story. Now, it was just noise. Her thoughts ran like wildfire—if this worked out, it will be over for Tyrone and Donovan. And obviously a clean break and new beginnings for her.
"You know you don't have to leave journalism," Jayson said suddenly, as if reading her thoughts. 
"I know," she said, though she didn't entirely believe it. "But maybe I need a change of medium. Print is dying anyway."
"Print isn't dying; it's evolving," he countered, their old debate resurfacing. "And you're one of the best writers I know."
"Well, today I'm going to try to convince them I'm one of the best editors they've never met."
When they arrived, Jayson parked across the street from the sleek Nexus TV building. Its glass facade reflected the midday sun, making it seem like a tower of light. Nadia checked her makeup in the visor mirror, applied a fresh coat of dark red lipstick—her armor.
"You look perfect," Jayson assured her.
She reached for the door handle, but he caught her arm.
"Wait," he said, his voice softening. "No matter what happens in there, I'm proud of you. For taking this step."
"Thanks for the ride. And the pep talk."
Jayson smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way she'd always found endearing. "I'll wait right here. Just going to grab something real quick from that bakery over there." He nodded toward a small shop down the block. "Maybe those almond croissants you like."
"You spoil me," she said, feeling the first genuine smile of the day spread across her face.
"Someone has to," he replied.
Inside Nexus TV, the energy was different—livelier, fresher. The lobby bustled with purpose, screens mounted on every wall showing different broadcasts. The receptionist greeted her with a bright smile and directed her to the fifth floor. In the elevator, Nadia straightened her spine, lifted her chin.
The HR office was modern, with clean lines and vibrant blue walls. A few familiar faces from past media events welcomed her warmly.
"Nadia Brown!" exclaimed Derek Mercer, a former colleague who'd made the jump to television two years ago. "Where have you been hiding? I haven't seen your byline in months."
She smiled, explained lightly. "Been focusing on editing more than writing lately."
"Well, their loss might be our gain," he said. "Caroline is excited to meet you."
Caroline Anderson, the HR director, was a tall woman with a firm handshake. "Your timing is impeccable, Ms. Brown. We really need a strong editor on the team. And your name came highly recommended by several of our producers."
The interview lasted forty minutes—questions about her editorial philosophy, her experience with tight deadlines, how she handled difficult personalities. Nadia felt herself coming alive again as she spoke about journalism, about integrity, about the responsibility to inform. 
"We'll get back to you within the week," Caroline said with a kind smile as she walked Nadia back to the elevator. "But between us, I think you'd be a perfect fit for what we're building here."
Nadia stepped out of the building, hope bubbling in her chest. Sunlight spilled across the pavement, warming her face. She took a deep breath, feeling lighter than she had in months.
She scanned the spot where Jayson had parked.
Just car. No Jayson.
Her eyes darted up and down the street. Then she saw him—across the road, holding a small paper bag, waiting for the light to change. He looked like he'd just bought the promised snacks, probably her favorite almond croissants. He caught her eye and smiled, raising the bag slightly.
She was about to wave when it happened.
A figure approached him from behind. Not fast. Not slow. Just... deliberate. Face hidden beneath a dark cap and gray scarf despite the warm day.
And then—
The push.
Jayson staggered forward. Not a fall. A lunge. Straight into the road.
The screech of tires pierced the air.
The sickening crunch of metal meeting flesh.
The brown paper bag burst in the air, pastries flying like feathers into the wind.
"JAYSON!" Nadia's scream tore from her throat, raw and primal.
The world slowed, then shattered.
People ran. Someone yelled for an ambulance. A woman on her phone was already dialing 911, her voice high and panicked: "A man's been hit! Corner of Lexington and 47th!"
Nadia ran too, finally finding her legs. She darted through traffic, ignoring the blaring horns, the shocked faces. She fell to her knees beside him on the asphalt.
Jayson lay broken on the street, one arm at an unnatural angle. His eyes were half-closed, blood running down his temple, his breath short and ragged.
"I'm here," she whispered, her hands hovering over him, afraid to touch and cause more pain. "I'm here, Jayson."
His eyes found hers, struggling to focus. "Na...di?"
"Don't talk," she said, her voice trembling. "Help is coming. Just stay with me."
She looked up wildly, searching the crowd that had gathered. The figure in the cap was gone. Vanished.
"Did anyone see?" she called out desperately. "Someone pushed him! Did anyone see who it was?"
A few people exchanged confused glances. An older man stepped forward.
"I saw him trip and fall," he said, his brow furrowed. "I don't think anyone pushed him."
"No," Nadia insisted. "Someone was behind him. In a cap and scarf."
But the man just shook his head, and others were murmuring similar accounts. Had she imagined it? No, she was certain of what she'd seen.
Jayson's fingers twitched, seeking hers. She gently took his hand, not caring that it was slick with blood.
"The... files," he whispered. "My jacket... pocket."
"Shh, don't worry about that now."
But his eyes were insistent, fever-bright with urgency. "Take them. Important."
The ambulance's wail grew louder. Carefully, Nadia reached inside his jacket. In the inner pocket was a slim USB drive.
"This?" she asked.
He gave a slight nod before his eyes fluttered closed.
The paramedics arrived, moving with practiced efficiency. They asked her questions she barely heard, let alone answered. Someone—a kind-faced woman in scrubs—gently moved her aside.
"Are you family?" the paramedic asked as they loaded Jayson onto a stretcher.
"Yes," Nadia lied without hesitation. "I'm his wife."
The ambulance came. The sirens wailed like grief itself. She rode with them to St. Francis Hospital, gripping his hand the entire way, whispering promises, prayers, pleas.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to him. Not now. Not when they were finally fighting back. The Westlake story, the documents they'd been gathering—it all seemed remote now, eclipsed by the beeping monitors and the antiseptic smell of the hospital.
In the emergency room, they took him away, behind swinging doors she wasn't allowed to pass through. A nurse guided her to a waiting area, offered her water, tissues, empty reassurances.
Nadia sat alone, clutching the USB drive like a talisman, her clothes stained with Jayson's blood. Her phone buzzed. 
A text from Joy: Where are you? The meeting started 20 minutes ago.
She stared at the message, then slowly put the phone away without responding.
Outside the window, the sun continued to shine as if nothing had happened. As if the world hadn't just tilted on its axis. As if Jayson hadn't been deliberately pushed into traffic right before her eyes.
The USB drive felt heavy in her hand. Whatever was on it had been worth risking everything for. Worth dying for?
No, she wouldn't think like that. Jayson would be fine. He had to be.
A doctor approached, his face carefully neutral. "Mrs. Jayson? About your husband..."
Nadia stood, her heart pounding, the world narrowing to this single moment of truth.