Stardust and Kisses

Checkmate

Heather

As soon as I tracked down the blog, a no-name operation calling itself Celebrity Spy, I knew this wasn’t going to be difficult—but it needed to be done fast. Small-time gossip blogs like this one didn’t have the resources or legal backing to resist a direct attack, and that was exactly what I had in mind.

I slammed my laptop shut, grabbed my coat, and headed out. This was the kind of thing that needed a personal touch. Besides, I was tired of making phone calls and playing email tag with people who thought they were untouchable because they had a keyboard and an audience. No, this time I wanted to make it clear who they were messing with.

The office was a dingy little hole-in-the-wall in a part of town that made me roll my eyes. Of course, they were operating out of a place like this. Cheap rent and probably no one ever showing up to ask questions.

I pushed the door open and walked in like I owned the place.

A guy in his mid-thirties, balding and sweating like a pig, looked up from behind a cluttered desk. His surprise was almost comical, but I didn’t have time to laugh.

“Heather Castro,” I said, not bothering to smile. “You run Celebrity Spy, right?”

The guy blinked, then swallowed nervously. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. Is there a—”

“There’s a problem,” I cut him off, stepping closer. I leaned over the desk, meeting his eyes directly. “You ran a bullshit story about my client, Aaron. You’ve probably seen the hits it’s gotten, but I’m here to make sure that stops right now.”

He looked confused for a moment, then quickly switched into defensive mode. “Look, I just post what people sent me. I got a tip—”

“Save it,” I snapped. “I don’t give a s**t where you got your tip from. What I care about is the fact that you didn’t check a single source before running this garbage, and now my client’s reputation is on the line because you’re too lazy to do actual journalism.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but I wasn’t having it. “Here’s how this is going to go. First, you’re going to delete every single article you’ve published about Aaron. Every last one of them. Second, you’re going to post a public apology—an actual apology, not some half-assed ‘oops, we made a mistake’ bullshit. By tomorrow.”

The guy stammered, clearly panicked. “I-I mean, sure, I can take it down. But an apology? That’s—”

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping dangerously low. “That’s non-negotiable. You’re going to publish that apology, or I’ll bury this publication so deep no one will remember you ever existed. Trust me, I have lawyers on speed dial who would love to tear you apart for fun.”

He gulped, nodding quickly. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. It’ll be down by the end of the day.”

“Good,” I said, straightening up. I was about to leave when a thought struck me. “Who tipped you off about Aaron?”

The guy hesitated, glancing nervously at his phone. “I, uh, I don’t know. It was an anonymous call. Said they had proof, but didn’t want to give their names. They sounded pretty convincing.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Did they, now?”

“Yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly, they sounded kinda pissed. Like, really pissed. They gave me enough details to make it sound legit, so I didn’t question it. But I swear, that’s all I know.”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to read between the lines. This wasn’t just some opportunistic blogger looking to make quick buck off a celebrity scandal. Someone was orchestrating this—someone with a personal vendetta, someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

A chill ran down my spine. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”

The guy blinked. “What do you mean?”

I shook my head. “Never mind. Just make sure everything’s gone by the end of the day, and don’t ever publish anything about Aaron again. Not unless you want me back here, and trust me—you don’t want that.”

He nodded furiously, clearly eager for me to leave. “Got it. It’ll be done, I swear.”

I turned on my heel and headed for the door, but paused just before I walked out. “And don’t forget the apology. Tomorrow.”

With that, I left the office, pulling my coat tighter around me as I stepped back out into the cold. As I made my way to the car, my mind raced.

An anonymous tip-off. Pissed, detailed, and targeted. Whoever this was, they weren’t going to stop with a few blog posts. This was just the beginning. But they had no idea what they were up against.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a contact. “It’s me. I need you to pull every string we’ve got. I want every single article, post, and mention of Aaron wiped off the face of the internet. I don’t care how you do it, just make it happen.”

The person on the other end grunted in agreement, and I hung up, feeling the familiar adrenaline rush. This was what I did best. Pulling strings, making things disappear, and keeping my clients one step ahead of the disaster, waiting to swallow them whole.

But this? This was different. Whoever was behind this wasn’t just some amateur looking for a payday. This was personal. And if they thought they could take Aaron down without going through me, they were in for a rude f*****g awakening.

For now, I'll clean up the mess. But I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

Whoever they were, I was coming for them next.