Amara's POV:
I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, that rose was there. Twisted petals. Shadows that made it look almost alive in the camera flash.
I'd been up since four in the morning.My laptop open, coffee going cold beside me. I googled everything I could think of. "Twisted rose symbol." "Corporate logos with roses." "Rose carved metal."
Nothing useful. Just tattoo blogs and Pinterest boards.
My phone sat beside me on the couch. Screen dark.
I kept checking it. Every few minutes. Waiting.
But nothing came. No new messages. Just the one from last night.
*Stop looking where you are not wanted.*
The silence was worse than another threat would've been.
My apartment was small. Cramped, really. One bathroom. A kitchen that barely fit two people. But the rent was cheap and the neighborhood was decent.
I zoomed in on the photo again, studying every line of the carved rose.
Dad's office. That paper he'd flipped over so fast. The rose had been exactly like this.
"Just work stuff, sweetie. Nothing for you to worry about."
But it hadn't been nothing. Whatever it was got him killed.
I grabbed my phone again. Checked.
Still nothing.
Keys jingled outside. The door opened.
Sarah stumbled in, still in scrubs, hair in a messy bun. She looked dead on her feet. Dark circles, shoulders slumped.
"You look terrible," I said, setting my phone down quickly.
"Right back at you." She kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag. "Twelve hour shift. Three cardiac arrests. One guy thought aliens were stealing his organs."
"Want coffee?"
"Want tequila. Coffee works though." She collapsed beside me, then frowned at my laptop. The empty mugs. The notebook covered in scribbles. "You've been up all night."
"Maybe."
"Amara."
"I'm fine."
"You're a terrible liar." She leaned closer, studying my face. "What happened at that gala?"
"Nothing. Just boring work stuff."
"Uh huh. That's why you look like death." She poked my arm. "Spill."
"There's nothing to spill, i got my interview and came home. That's it."
She didn't believe me. But she was too tired to push.
"Fine. Keep your secrets then." She stood up and stretched, then paused. Her expression shifted. Softer. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything. Even the stuff you think you need to handle alone."
For a second, I almost told her. About the rose. The message. The fear sitting in my chest like a stone.
But I didn't.
"I know," I said instead.
She looked at me for a long moment. Like she could see right through me. Then nodded. "Okay. But when you spiral into an anxiety hole, I'm dragging you to therapy."
"Noted."
She disappeared into her room.
I sat there staring at my phone.
Still nothing.
---
**Newsroom, Two Hours Later**
Chaos. That's what the newsroom always was. Phones ringing, people yelling across desks, keyboards clicking non-stop. I loved it. The noise, the energy, the feeling that something important was always about to break.
I dropped my bag and turned on my computer.
My phone was in my pocket. I'd checked it three times on the subway. Nothing.
Ethan rolled over in his chair. "You okay? You look rough."
"Wow, thanks."
"Seriously though."
"Just tired."
He didn't look convinced. "Well, buckle up. Something big just dropped."
"What?"
He nodded at the TV on the wall. Business news playing, captions scrolling.
**BREAKING: Financial Fraud Allegations Rock Vale Industries**
My stomach dropped.
"What the hell?"
"Someone leaked internal documents. Financial records. Looks like Vale's been cooking the books, hiding massive losses to make the company look profitable." Ethan glanced at me." Their stock price is crashing."
I stared at the screen. Numbers dropping and Vale Industries' value plummeting.
"Who leaked it?"
"Anonymous source." He paused. "But people think it's you."
My blood went cold. "What?"
"You were asking questions at the gala last night. About the company, old scandals, missing reports. Now this drops twelve hours later?" He shrugged. "People are connecting dots."
"I didn't leak anything."
"I know that. But..."
"Ms. Reyes. My office. Now."
I turned. My editor, Mr Murphy, stood by his door. Arms crossed, face red.
Not good.
I walked over, ignoring stares from everyone.
He shut the door hard behind us.
"Sit."
I sat.
He paced behind his desk, jaw tight. "You have any idea what kind of shitstorm just landed on me?"
"I didn't leak anything."
"Vale Industries' lawyers called an hour ago. They said they'll sue us into the ground if we publish anything more about those documents."
"I didn't..."
"I don't care." His hand slammed the desk. "I don't care if you did it or not. What I care about is you went to that gala, asked questions you had no business asking, and now we're in their crosshairs."
"I was doing my job."
"Your job is to write nice stories about charity dinners. Not piss off billionaires."
That stung but I kept my face blank. "So we just ignore corruption?"
"We stay alive as a newspaper. We can't afford lawsuits. We can't afford enemies like Roman Vale." He leaned forward. "So here's what happens. You drop this. All of it. No more questions about Vale, no more digging. Leave it alone."
"And if I don't?"
"You're fired."
The words just hung there.
I stood up, hands shaking. "You're serious."
"Dead serious. Back off, Amara. Not worth your career."
I wanted to scream. Tell him this mattered. That my father died for this.
But I didn't.
I just left.
My phone was heavy in my pocket as I walked back to my desk.
I pulled it out. Checked again.
Still nothing.
---
**Back Home, Evening**
I slammed the door.
Sarah looked up from the couch, takeout containers spread in front of her. "That bad?"
"Worse." I dropped beside her. "Editor told me to back off Vale or lose my job."
"What? Why?"
"Someone leaked financial records showing Vale's been hiding losses, lying about profits. Everyone thinks it's me because I asked questions at the gala."
"That's insane. You didn't do it."
"Doesn't matter. I'm the scapegoat." I rubbed my face. "I don't even know what to do anymore."
Sarah was quiet for a second. Then she pushed a container toward me. "Eat first. Think later."
I looked at the food and realized I hadn't eaten all day.
"Not hungry."
"Eat anyway." She shoved chopsticks in my hand. "You can't think straight when you're running on coffee and hate."
Despite everything, I smiled a little. "Since when did you become the responsible one?"
"Since you started looking like a zombie." She picked up her own container. "Come on. Chinese food fixes everything. Temporarily."
We ate in silence for a while. The TV played some sitcom neither of us was watching.
Sarah glanced at me. "You keep checking your phone."
My hand froze halfway to my pocket. "What?"
"You've checked it like five times since you got home. Waiting for someone to call?"
"No. Just... work stuff."
"Uh huh." She set down her food. "Amara. I know you're lying to me. I don't know about what, but I know."
I looked at her. Really looked. Sarah was always the wild one. The fun one. The one who made jokes when things got heavy.
But right now, she wasn't joking.
"I'm fine," I said quietly.
"You keep saying that. But you're not sleeping. You're obsessing over something. You're scared." She grabbed my hand. "Whatever this is, you don't have to do it alone."
My throat tightened.
I wanted to tell her,about the rose,the message. The fear that whoever sent it was still watching.
But I couldn't drag her into this.
"I know," I said instead. "I promise I'm okay."
She looked at me for a long moment. Then sighed and let go. "Fine. But I'm serious. When this blows up in your face, and it will, I'm gonna say I told you so."
"Fair."
She stood up, stretched. "Okay. New plan. It's Friday. I'm off tomorrow. We're going out."
"Sarah..."
"Don't argue. You need to get out of your head. There's that new club downtown. Music, drinks. Exactly what you need."
"I don't feel like..."
"Don't care. You're coming. Non-negotiable." She pulled me up. "Come on. Get dressed. We're doing this."
I looked at her stubborn face.
"Fine. But when this goes badly, I'm blaming you."
She grinned. "Deal."