ough the revolving glass doors of
d medical patch covered the stitches on her forehead. He
the Human Reso
e mahogany desk. She slid a thick employee handbo
. I know you're Emerson Jordan's protégé from London, but this is D.C. Your connections ove
and junior writers passing by
lway. Alya clearly heard the wo
the pen, signed her name with aggressive, sharp
main newsroom, she nearly collided w
a-Al
graying, but his eyes lit up with genuine surprise. He ha
id, her tone po
I'm the Deputy Editor here now. Come on
Liam stopped in front of a massive corner desk
itor. She was a D.C. socialite
eyes raked over Alya's che
Alya Rivas," L
As in Faustino Rivas? I didn't realize BCF w
n of the newsroom
cing both hands flat on E
d, her voice smooth as glass. "Not about whose lap you
t, ugly red. Alya had hit the
ained manila folder from her tray
ucture project in Ward 8. The contractors are complaining ab
s a miserable, muddy wasteland with zero pol
s a senior investigator. T
d, stopping Liam.
by four," Al
uipment room, grabbing a heavy
zing, thick brown mud. The construction site
sed to get out of the BCF news v
ind. She pulled up the co
any running the site was a subsid
ory. This was a massive m
oar of heavy ma
achs rolled through the chain-link ga
l politicians scrambled f
polished, custom-made Italian leather shoe steppe
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