Chapter 1 - Gemma

The clack of my laptop keyboard filled my apartment beneath the flurry of my fingers as I worked, so focused on the task at hand that I didn't have the chance to put any music on.

I was so focused on getting the assignment done that I didn't notice how much my eyes were burning until I added the final period, capping off the article my boss needed completely proofed and ready for print by Monday.

Letting go of a deep breath, I leaned back in my chair and took it all in. The beast of an article was done—all of the calls I made reaching out to potential witnesses and those affected by recent suspicious deaths in the city, all linked to one family, along with the tireless research, came to a head at last.

As I looked it over, I couldn't ignore the spark of pride in my chest. It was an explosive piece—an expose that could either make or break my career.

Glancing across my tiny living room, destroyed by loose notes, print-outs, and whatever records I could find, my eyes settled on the old typewriter propped up on an end table—an heirloom from my grandfather, who had also been a journalist in his time.

My apartment was a sore excuse for a home, cramped and worn-down, but that typewriter was like a beacon of hope in many ways.

Interning at one of the most prominent local papers in New York was certainly no walk in the park. It was grueling and frustrating even on the best of days, and I was always up to my eyeballs in work, but all of it was worth it for the position alone.

I'd wanted to be a journalist since I was a kid, and while interning wasn't the most glamorous thing, it was a step in the right direction. A stepping stone to get me where I really wanted to be.

And if I was lucky enough, the article in front of me would be my ticket into a salaried position with stability and promise for more growth. Even if I was spending my Friday night working after hours from home, I knew it would pay off eventually. It had to.

I had no one else in the city, and keeping busy with work also allowed me to stay one step ahead of my lonely reality. I didn't have family or close friends to distract me from what I wanted the most, and while that fact made my heart feel heavy, I also knew it worked in my favor.

However, as I scrolled through the document, something about the topic and the name associated left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Someone tipped my boss off and exposed a string of recent murders in the city that hadn't been investigated properly by police. They came from fairly prominent, wealthy families in the city, yet nothing was released to the press, and the police didn’t launch any proper investigations. All the autopsies cited natural causes of death, but that was all too convenient.

After digging, I discovered the Levovs, another especially prominent family in the city. Despite their expertly curated public image, the more I looked into things and put the pieces together, the more I realized just how dangerous that underbelly really was. They were one of the wealthiest families in all of New York, and that wasn't by accident.

The loud chime of my ringtone shattered those unsavory thoughts, making me jump in my chair as I blinked through the initial shock. Without hesitating, I grabbed my cell, finding my boss's contact.

"Hello, Norman—"

"How's that piece on the Levovs coming along?" Norman asked, cutting to the chase as usual.

Swallowing back the slight doubt that tried to creep in, I forced a smile, hoping it would be present in my words. "It's going really well…yeah, it's coming along. A little more work and the first draft will be done tonight."

There was a slight moment of consideration on his end, and with a quiet rush of air, I knew he was exhaling after a drag of his cigarette. "Good, good. That's what I like to hear, Tyler. The sooner we release the article, the sooner law enforcement might actually do something to stop those bastards."

"The information is pretty damning," I admitted, scrolling through the rough document. "You sure they won't retaliate?"

"Nah," he huffed. "That's what we have lawyers for. Besides, some little hit piece would be a drop in the bucket for big dogs like the Levovs."

Taking his word for it, I let go of a discreet breath. "I'll send the finished piece this weekend, then."

"Remember, have it in my inbox by eight a.m. sharp Monday morning."

"Eight a.m. sharp," I echoed. "I'm on it."

"Looking forward to reading it, Tyler."

Before I even had the chance to say goodnight, the call dropped, and I was left alone in my apartment again—just me and my laptop.

Sighing, I tapped my foot absently and stared at the words on my screen, unable to shake the strange sensation that washed over me.

I wasn't entirely honest with Norman. The article was done. It just needed some editing and tweaking, but otherwise, nothing was stopping me from submitting it early.

Except for the feeling I couldn't shake. Like I was making a mistake.

The article was about a notorious family in the organized crime circuit, and they were infamous for a reason, apparently.

If the facts were substantiated, and I really was on to something, then there was no telling what might happen.

Journalism was about taking risks and telling the stories that needed to be out there for the public to read, but something about putting myself in the ring opposite the Levovs didn't sit right with me.

Glancing at the clock, eight-thirty blinked back at me, and I found myself mulling over an idea.

It wasn't that late on a Friday night, and as far as I knew, the Levovs had several nightclubs around the city. Surely that meant at least someone representing the family might be around.

At the very least, I could offer them the chance to see the article for themselves and dispute the points made against them before it had the chance to hit the printers. That way, I was not only maintaining my journalistic integrity, but I'd also be covering my ass by letting the Levovs know of its existence ahead of time.

Surely that would count for something.

With resolve filling my system, I hit print on the document and forced myself to get to it.

Fixing up my hair and makeup, along with my pencil skirt and patterned blouse, I made my way out of my crummy apartment and set out on a mission before I could lose my nerve.

***

Music leaked on to the busy street outside the Levov club as I approached, weathering my slight anxiety as best as I could.

But even if the nerves were eating at me, I forced them down and reminded myself of what I was trying to achieve—of my dreams that were hanging in the balance.

Pulling in a deep breath, I took my place in line and waited until I reached the bouncer. He was a big, hulking man with piercing eyes as he gazed down at me.

"ID?"

Picking up my badge from where it hung around my neck, I presented it to him. "I'm Gemma Tyler, an intern writer for a paper here in the city, and I was hoping I might have a word with one of the owners."

As the bouncer analyzed my ID, he looked between me and the badge, then his eyes gave away his answer. "All right, head in. Someone will be by to see you."

Nodding, I gave him a curt smile before heading inside to be met with loud music and a full house. As the bass drowned out the click of my heels against the floor, I held the leather-bound folio against my chest and put on a brave face.

Even if I was doing it all for the future of my career, I was scared half to death of potentially meeting a Levov for myself.

Silently, I could only hope everything would go well, and that the initiative would pay off in the end.