THE HEIRESS AND THE RUTHLESS REPORTER

THE RUTHLESS REPORTER

Evelyn told herself she wouldn’t think about him.

She lied.

By 9am she’d reread the article four times. By 10am she was googling "Damian Cole Toronto Truth" and clearing her search history.

By 11:03am, he was waiting outside her lecture hall.

Leaning against the wall like he owned the building. Black trench coat. Hair a little messy. Coffee in one hand, notepad in the other.

And eyes that looked straight through her.

"Miss Moore," he said. His voice was lower in person. Rougher.

"Care to comment on your father's alleged cover-up?"

Evelyn’s heart stopped.

He knew.She lifted her chin. Forced her voice not to shake.

*"What do you know that I don’t?"*

Damian’s smirk faltered for half a second. Like he wasn’t expecting that.

He took a step closer. Students were walking around them but it felt like they were the only two people there.

"Careful, perfect daughter," he murmured. "Curiosity gets people in trouble."

"So does silence," she shot back.

His eyes darkened. He liked that.Damian stared at her for a long second. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a plain black card. No name. Just a time and an address.

He pressed it into her palm. His fingers brushed hers and stayed there one second too long.

"8pm," he said quietly. "King Street newsstand. Come alone if you want the truth about your father."

Evelyn’s breath caught. "Why me?"

"Because you’re the only one in that house who actually wants answers."

He let go of her hand and stepped back.

"Don’t be late, Miss Moore."

And then he was gone, disappearing down the hallway like he’d never been there at all.

Evelyn looked down at the card in her shaking hand.

8PM. KING STREET.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

`DAD: Dinner at 7. Don’t be late.`

She closed her eyes.

Perfect daughter... or the truth?