Nadia parked the navy blue Corolla two blocks away, her hands still gripping the steering wheel as her mind raced. Following normal employee procedures would take days before the story could be published, and she had only twenty-four hours before the opportunity window closed. Once Donovan won the primaries, people would dismiss her story as mere propaganda designed to pull him down. She needed the story out immediately. Then the idea struck her—ignore all protocols and seek an audience with the CEO, Mr. Richard David. Though she couldn't predict how it would play out, she had to try. Summoning her courage, she pushed open the car door, walked purposefully toward the building.
Stepping into the lobby of Nexus TV, soft instrumental music played overhead, lending an air of sophistication to the bustling media headquarters. Nadia, cloaked in her new look—oxblood hair swept into a sleek low bun, light makeup to alter the contours of her face, a paisley-patterned scarf wrapped elegantly around her neck, and dark glasses obscuring her eyes—moved with quiet resolve through the space.
There, her eyes caught the figure of a man in a charcoal grey tailored suit standing alone by the large indoor fiddle-leaf fig, studying a leather portfolio with intense concentration.
Her heart hammered in her chest. She recognized him from countless news segments and magazine profiles: Richard David, the sixty-something politician and media mogul whose reputation for ruthless truth-telling had made Nexus TV the second most trusted news source in the country. A man who had once been a field reporter in war zones before climbing the corporate and political ladder.
She took a deep breath, adjusted her scarf, and walked directly toward him, her heels clicking decisively on the marble.
"Ms., you can't just—" called a receptionist behind her, but Nadia was already within earshot of the CEO.
"Excuse me, sir. Are you Honorable Richard David, the CEO?" she asked, voice steadier than she felt.
Two security guards materialized almost instantly, their bodies forming a barrier between her and the executive.
"Sir, we'll escort her out," said the taller guard, reaching for Nadia's elbow.
David looked up, surprise flickering across his weathered face at the directness of her approach. He raised a hand to halt the security team.
"It's all right," he said, his voice carrying the gravelly timber of someone who had spent decades in broadcasting. "I am Richard David. And you are?" He waved off the security guards, who retreated a few steps but remained watchful.
"Nadia Brown," she said, removing her glasses to meet his gaze directly. His eyes were sharp, calculating—the eyes of a man who had seen too many truths buried behind political handshakes and corporate deals. "I have something urgent—something you'd want to hear. It's about Senator Donovan Lewis. I know what he's done. And I have proof."
That sentence hung in the air between them, electric with possibility.
David's expression shifted subtly, the corners of his mouth tightening as he studied her face. "And what exactly would that be?"
"Something that could change the entire election narrative," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Something your viewers deserve to know."
After a long moment, David nodded. "Jenkins," he said to one of the security guards, "please escort Ms. Brown to the third-floor conference room. Discreetly." He turned back to Nadia. "I'll be there in five minutes."
The conference room was austere—a glass table surrounded by ergonomic chairs, a wall of windows overlooking the cityscape, and state-of-the-art presentation equipment. Nadia paced the perimeter, rehearsing her words, clutching her shoulder bag containing the flash drive that could upend everything.
When the door opened, David entered alone, closing it firmly behind him.
"I don't typically take impromptu meetings with strangers who approach me in the lobby," he said, settling into a chair at the head of the table. "But there was something in your eyes that I've seen before—in reporters who've stumbled onto something bigger than themselves."
He gestured to the chair beside him. "So, Ms. Brown—what's this proof you claim to have about Senator Lewis?"
With trembling hands, Nadia removed the flash drive from her bag and placed it on the table. She took a deep breath and met his gaze.
"Mr. David, Donovan Lewis isn't whom he claimed to be. He had lied to the citizens, abetted murders and concealed the truth through the police and media" Nadia said 
"Young lady, do you know the implication of what you're saying?"
Nadia reached to her bag, pulled out a brown envelope. Placed it on the table.
"What's that?" David asked 
"The evidence to everything I have said"
David's expression remained impassive, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "That's a serious accusation. And what's your connection to all this?"
"I was a journalist at the Herald News," she explained, her voice growing stronger. "Few weeks ago, I got a tip about a murder case left uninvestigated for six months now. I pulled up a story on it. But when I presented my findings to my editor, I was immediately reassigned to the entertainment section and my story was shredded—."
David examined the materials carefully, his expression unreadable. "And how did you come by these documents?"
"Through Jayson Coleman, my boyfriend, investigative officer, who was investigating the case before they tried to silence him."
"Silence him?" 
"Donovan lied that he was renovating the Portovenan children's home, while secretly he funnelled the money for the renovation into arms importation and converted the children's home into spot for night gathering. He has the city police chief in his pocket too. Jayson was about to expose all of this when..." Tears welled up in her eyes. "He was run down in a hit-and-run that was no accident. He's in the hospital right now, in a coma."
"Run down by whom?"
Nadia unlocked her phone and opened the media Orion had sent her of the accident scene. She showed it to Mr. David. "Him—the investigative desk chief editor at Herald, Mr Tyrone Martin and half-brother to Donovan."
David leaned back in his seat, his expression grave. 
"It doesn't seem like you're lying. But if any of this proves to be false, you'll pay for uttering it."
Nadia nodded in acceptance.
"Good. Give me some minutes. I'll get back to you."
He grabbed those documents and left.
Nadia sat there, uncertain what reply she would receive. She had done her best—she had revealed everything. But in that moment, she felt lost. What if he returned rejecting all she'd said? What would be her fate and that of Jayson's? She had placed so much on the line by coming here. Time continued to tick by, each second stretching into eternity.
After some hours passed, David stepped back inside the room,leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "These are extraordinary claims, Ms. Brown. They're explosive. But they'll also put you in considerable danger. Why come to me? Why not go to the authorities?"
She leaned forward, eyes intense. "I came to you because your reputation is unimpeachable. Because Nexus TV is the only major network that Lewis hasn't been able to influence or intimidate. Because I need someone powerful enough to protect this story—"
Silence filled the room as David considered her words. Finally, he spoke.
"What do you want in return?" he asked, his tone suddenly businesslike.
The question caught Nadia off guard. "In return?"
"Everyone wants something, Ms. Brown. Money? A job? Protection? What's your price for this information?"
Nadia felt a flash of indignation, then realized it was a test. She met his gaze steadily.
"I want this story aired. Let the world know what's happening. I want truth on the record." Her voice softened. "Not revenge—truth. I want justice for those who were murdered because they were chasing this truth."
David studied her for a long moment, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. Then he nodded slowly.
"You're a woman on a mission, Nadia. I respect that." He stood and walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back. "If half of what you've told me is verifiable, this is the biggest political scandal since Watergate."
He turned back to face her. "You'll go on air. Today. Not just as a source or an interview subject—but as the journalist who broke this story."
Nadia's breath caught. "Mr. David, I—"
He held up a hand. "I've been in this business long enough to recognize authentic reporting when I see it. You've done the work. You've paid a terrible price for it. You deserve the byline."
He pressed a button on the conference room phone. "Claire, come in here, please."
Moments later, a sharply dressed woman with a clipboard entered.
"Claire, this is Nadia Brown. She's breaking a major story on tonight's eight o'clock broadcast. Get her to hair and makeup, then have Samuels prep her for the segment. Pull Thompson from the economic report—this takes priority."
Claire's eyebrows rose slightly, but she nodded. "Right away, sir."
"Wait," Nadia said, suddenly uncertain. "Don't you need to verify my information first? Review the evidence?"
David smiled for the first time—a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "My legal team is already on it and I've got a green light to go ahead with the story. But If anything doesn't check out, we'll pull the segment. But somehow, Ms. Brown, I don't think that will be necessary."
He extended his hand. "Welcome to Nexus TV. For tonight, at least."
---
In the dressing room, as brushes touched her skin and soft powder filled the air, Nadia sat silent, watching her transformation in the mirror. The makeup artist had instructions to enhance her features rather than disguise them—tonight, she needed to be recognized, to be credible.
"Nervous?" asked the stylist, a petite woman with purple-streaked hair who was arranging Nadia's oxblood locks into a camera-ready style.
"Terrified," Nadia admitted. "I've never been on this side of a story before."
"You'll do fine," the woman assured her. "Just speak from the heart. That's what connects with viewers."
A tear escaped the corner of Nadia's eye, and the makeup artist quickly dabbed it away with a tissue.
"Sorry," Nadia whispered.
"Don't be," the stylist said kindly. "Whatever you're about to do out there, it matters to you. That's good."
Nadia closed her eyes, and Jayson's face appeared in her mind—the warmth of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, his hand lying limp in hers at the hospital. She thought of their last conversation in the park, the snacks scattered across the pavement as the car sped away.
"This is for you," she whispered.
A producer appeared at the door. "Five minutes, Ms. Brown. Mr. David wants to see you before you go on."
Richard David waited in the hallway outside the studio, reviewing notes on a tablet.
"Everything checks out," he said without preamble. "Your documents are authentic. We've independently verified key elements of your story. We're good to go."
Relief washed over Nadia. "Thank you for believing me."
"I didn't," he replied bluntly. "I verified. There's a difference." He put away the tablet. "Now, a few things you should know before you go in there. This isn't an interview—it's your story. You'll be speaking directly to camera. We've prepared a teleprompter script based on your information, but if it doesn't feel right, ignore it. Speak your truth."
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "And remember—once this airs, there's no going back. Your life changes forever. Are you absolutely certain you want to do this?"
Nadia thought of her mother's cold body, of Desmond's bruised and broken body in the hospital bed, of the truth buried under layers of power and corruption.
"I've never been more certain of anything," she said.
David nodded. "Then go make history."
---
The studio was smaller than it appeared on television, but the array of lights, cameras, and monitors was intimidating. The anchor, James Reed, a veteran broadcaster with a reputation for integrity, greeted her warmly.
"Ms. Brown, it's an honor to have you with us tonight. Mr. David has briefed me on your story. I'll introduce you, and then the floor is yours."
Nadia nodded, her mouth dry. A technician clipped a microphone to her blouse, and a makeup artist made one final touch-up to her face.
"Thirty seconds," called the director.
Nadia took her position in the guest chair, hands folded in her lap to hide their trembling.
"Ten seconds... five, four, three, two..."
The red light on the camera blinked on.
"Good evening. I'm James Reed. Tonight, Nexus TV brings you an exclusive report that may change the course of the upcoming election. Journalist Nadia Brown has uncovered evidence of what appears to be an unprecedented campaign of media manipulation and possible criminal activity surrounding Senator Donovan Lewis's bid for higher office. Ms. Brown, the floor is yours."
The camera's red eye swiveled to face her, and for a moment, Nadia felt a wave of panic. Then she spoke, her voice carried clarity, emotion, and conviction that surprised even herself.
"Thank you, James. My name is Nadia Brown, and until Four weeks ago, I was a reporter at the Herald newspaper. What I'm about to share with you is the result of months of investigation—an investigation that cost my job and left my colleague fighting for his life in a hospital bed."
She looked directly into the camera, imagining she was speaking directly to Senator Lewis.
"Six months ago, the Herald newspaper was purchased by a company called Omaha Dredge Investments Ltd. A shell company controlled by Senator Donovan Lewis, who has been using the paper to manipulate public opinion, kill unfavorable stories, and advance his political agenda in secret. Same six months ago, a young university student Naomi Peterson was murdered, no news outlet recorded it. Everyone believed she'd overdosed. But one man, Detective Cedric Scott who was close to exposing the truth was silenced too. Why did they have to die? Because they discovered Senator Donovan secret. Instead of championing the renovation of the Portovenan children's home, he was importing ammunitions." Pictures flashed on the the screen. Smiling picture of Cedric and Naomi. Pictures of the container Jayson took at Meadowbrook Port.
With methodical precision, she laid out the evidence—the financial transactions, the editorial directives, the systematic suppression of information. She revealed Tyrone Martin' relationship to Lewis and how it had been concealed to avoid accusations of nepotism and bias.
"When I discovered this story and prepared to publish my findings, I was immediately reassigned. My story was destroyed. My sources were intimidated. And when I continued my investigation privately, the harassment escalated."
"Four weeks ago, my informant Detective Jayson Coleman, who had been helping me gather evidence, was deliberately struck by a vehicle while we were meeting to discuss our findings. The driver fled the scene. Jayson remains in critical condition."
She gestured to the documents now being displayed on screen.
"What you're seeing are bank records, corporate filings, and internal communications that prove beyond doubt that Senator Lewis has been operating a covert propaganda operation while publicly championing transparency, good governance and journalistic freedom."
She leaned forward slightly, her expression intense.
"I'm coming forward now because the public deserves to know the truth before casting their votes. Because the freedom of the press is not just a constitutional right—it's the cornerstone of our democracy. And because no one—no matter how powerful—should be able to silence the truth through intimidation and violence."
She held up the flash drive.
"Everything I've referenced tonight is contained in this drive, which I am turning over to federal investigators. I've also provided copies to multiple news organizations to ensure this information cannot be suppressed."
Looking directly into the camera one final time, she delivered her closing statement.
"To Senator Lewis: I am not afraid of you anymore. To the public: demand accountability. To journalists everywhere: remember why we do this job. Truth matters. Always. And to the victims families: Accept my condolences."
As the camera light blinked off, signaling the end of the segment, Nadia felt a profound sense of emptiness mixed with relief. It was done. The truth was out.
James Reed reached across and squeezed her hand. "That was extraordinary," he said quietly. "One of the most powerful pieces of journalism I've witnessed in my thirty years on air."
Around the studio, the crew stood in stunned silence. Then someone began to clap. Another joined in. Soon, the entire newsroom—those who had watched from behind the screens and monitors—were on their feet in applause.
As Nadia made her way out of the studio, she felt curiously light, as if a great weight had been lifted. In the hallway, Richard David waited, his face solemn but his eyes bright with something that might have been pride.
"That was powerful," he said. "Exactly what this network stands for." He paused. "I want you to join us, Nadia. Permanently. You've got what it takes. Raw talent, courage, integrity—things that can't be taught."
For a moment, Nadia was tempted. The security of a position at Nexus TV, the platform, the prestige—it was everything she had worked toward in her career.
But then she thought of Jayson, of the promise she had made at his bedside. This wasn't about her career anymore. It was about something larger.
She shook her head gently. "Thank you. That means more than you know. But I didn't do this for a job." She met his gaze steadily. "I did this for Jayson. And for me."
Understanding flickered across David's face. He nodded. "The offer stands. Whenever you're ready." He handed her a business card. "Meanwhile, you should know—there will be backlash. Lewis's people will come after you hard. Question your credibility, your motives. They'll try to discredit everything you've said."
"I know," she said quietly. "I'm prepared for that."
"Are you?" he asked, his expression grave. "Because once you leave this building, you're stepping into a storm. Lewis has powerful friends."
Nadia thought of all she had already lost, all she had already endured. "So do I," she replied. "I just haven't met them all yet."
A small smile tugged at David's lips. "Well, you've got one right here." He extended his hand. "Good luck, Ms. Brown. And thank you for trusting us with your story."
Nadia smiled and headed out.