Beneath the Lies

to my reflection. My dark hair fell like a waterfall of night, sweeping over my shoulders in inky waves. My eyes were the only feature that

height-conscious wasn't something I usually worried about, but today, a subtle prick of sel

promise and a test. But today wasn't

I'd majored in investigative journalism, poured my energy into a local internship-small, unnoticed, but gritty. And yet, here I was, joining

whispered from behind closed doors. That instinct-to dig, to question, to uncover what others tried to hide-it

ce that the person I saw was ready. Outside, the streets were alive with the morning rush. The weight of the d

d my bag and stepped inside. The lobby was pristine, almost too perfect-polished floors, warm lightin

y," I said, ret

en me and my father. I'd never taken his last name, Vasquez. I carried my mother's-Alvarez-a quiet decision made long a

houghts. "Welcome to Reed Enterprises. Someo

o believe I belonged here. I let my eyes wander over the marble and minimalist paintings-so far from the

ne, r

rched at the tip of her nose. She moved with easy confidence, her ha

ed, trying to hide the n

ng you the grand tour today. Ready to meet

Ready as I'

ed in a little closer and said, her voice low but unmistakably serious, "Word of

waver, but the

t, my journalist