One NightStand With Mr. Blackwood.

There’s a moment when your heart slows before you do something properly mad. That’s where I am. It’s 1:43AM, I’m in my mismatched pyjamas, hair in the messiest bun you’ve ever seen, staring at my laptop screen like it just insulted me. The exposé’s title blinks at me. *Blackwood Foundation’s Forgotten Victims: The Human Cost of Corporate Glory.* My fingers hover over the trackpad, frozen. I bite my lip, hard. This isn’t just another blog post. This is the one. The big one. If I post it, there's no going back. I look over at all my research and notes I'd been taking through this journey. It all started when I saw a name on the news, I looked it up, it was Daddy’s old factory. It triggered everything. When I was eleven, Dad walked in, Mum reached for his hand without a word, like she already knew. Twenty years at that factory and they dumped him just like that, like he had no worth. No warning. I’m doing this for him. For us. For all the families tossed aside so those rich, stuck up folks could drink from gold cups and live their whole lives like a vacation. But still… the fear creeps in. What if this backfires? What if they find me? I lean back in my chair and sigh. “Come on, Isa,” I mutter. “It’s not like you’re naming yourself ‘Anonymous Justice Girl’ for nothing.” I look at my blog dashboard. *Little Miss Justice11* has been building up credibility. My last exposé on shady scholarship fraud made some noise. But this? This one’s a bombshell. A little part of me also hoped my editor, Miss Amber Chambers would finally have something to praise me for. We all need our egos brushed now and then. I blink a few times as I hover over the “Publish” button again. “Bloody hell,” I whisper, then I click send. Boom. My screen refreshes. It’s out. My heart beats fast like I’ve been running through campus in heels. And even though my stomach’s doing flips, there’s this… stillness. Like I’ve been holding my breath for years and finally let it out. It’s done. And whether it goes viral or sinks to the bottom of the internet, I did it. For a few seconds, my mind goes quiet, the night is quiet and then my phone lights up and begins to buzz frantically as comments, reposts and likes pour in. I blink at the screen, it's 2:07am but the whole world seems to be awake and reacting to the post, to the truth. I refresh the site. The numbers go up fast. Twitter’s on it. i********: too. Some news pages are reposting already. No one knows I’m behind it. Just my blog name, LittleMissJustice11 and that's fine with me, let them focus on the story, on the truth. I know I’ve just messed with one of the biggest companies in the city so this is a big risk. A part of me is scared but another part feels proud and calm. If everyone else wants to ignore the truth, I’ll be the one to show it. I get into bed, my chest full of mixed feelings. Still, I fall asleep easily. I barely shut my eyes when my phone rings again. Still half asleep, I swipe the screen, thinking it’s my alarm. But it’s not. It’s my editor. "Isa. Oh my God." Amber Chambers' voice comes through the phone. I groan and fall back into my pillow. "Isa, are you there?" she asks "Yeah, yeah," I mumble, sit up straight and grab my phone. "I’m here. What time is it?" I know I sound tired. I shouldn't have stayed up so late scrolling. "Have you seen the reactions? Look at those numbers! Reposts, comments… it’s doubled in four hours. Honestly, when you first told me about the story, I wasn’t sure. But clearly, people love a bit of scandal, huh?" She tells me, excitedly. "Yeah, yeah," I say, rubbing my eyes. "You said you were stuck on the final part. How did you finish it?" She inquires. That question makes me sit up straighter. I need to lie. "I… found an old report. It was hidden in a pile of documents." Amber doesn’t sound convinced, but she lets it go. "Well, you did good. Just don’t let the hype fool you. These people won’t stay quiet. Blackwood is big. They won’t go down without a fight," she warns me. I already know that. But hearing her say it makes it feel more real. "I’m anonymous, Amber. They won’t know it’s me. And they deserved this. Their mess was already out of control. I just showed it." I tell her with certainty in my voice. She hums again. "Yeah. You’ll be fine. See you Friday, Isa." The call ends. I check the time. 5:59 a.m. My alarm rings right after. ************* I drag myself into my apartment after a long and exhausting day, I slam the door shut. “Well, someone seems to be cranky,” my best friend calls from where she's sitting on the couch. “Bloody hell, Edie. You startled me,” “My bad,” she says in the most unapologetic voice ever. “Remind me again why you're here?” “Because you missed me terribly and no one else makes your tea right, besides who knows when next we'll see between school and a whole ocean between us.” she pats the cushion beside her, “come talk to mama,” “This whole week has been a rollercoaster, you're so lucky you're on break in your uni,” “Well deserved too,” she says “So...have you seen the news?” I freeze. “What news?” “Rumour has it, the Blackwood Foundation is launching an internal investigation. Like, full-on trying to find out who wrote *that* exposé.” I sit up a little, my heart drops. “Seriously?” “Yup. Got it from one of my cousin’s w******p groups. You’ve got Blackwood shaking. Kind of iconic, really.” I laugh under my breath. “You think so?” “Obviously. You blew up the internet, Isa. And they don’t even know it’s you. You’re like some kind of journalistic Batman.” That makes me smile. “Since you wrote that exposé, Blackwood took a hit, I even heard a lot of their big donors and shareholders pulled out,” Edie keeps talking “Yeah, I think they deserve every stone that's going to be thrown at them,” I glance at my laptop and decide to check my email just to distract myself. There’s a new message. My brows furrow. “It’s an email. From… Blackwood Foundation?” Edie perks up. “What?” “They’re inviting me to apply for some investigative journalism internship.” “Wait… they don’t know it’s you, right?” I shake my head. “No. I mean… they shouldn’t. But what if they do? What if this is some elaborate trap?”