Maisie’s hug replayed first—her small arms clutching his coat. Then Eli’s guarded gratitude. The way the others had devoured their food like it might vanish at any moment.
And Amayah.
The calm strength in the way she moved through chaos. The softness in her voice when she spoke to the kids.
Then there was the kiss at the mall.
Unplanned. Brief. But impossible to dismiss.
The way her breath had trembled when she pulled away. The uncertainty in her eyes. The weight of the moment that had lingered long after they’d parted.
He wandered into the dim living room, sinking onto the edge of the couch, staring at nothing.
What he’d witnessed tonight hadn’t felt staged.
It had felt real and raw. Uncomfortable.
Beneath his cynicism, a quieter truth began to take root.
He didn’t want to expose Amayah. He wanted to support her.
His phone rang.
Luke stared at the screen for a long second before answering.
Linda. Again.
He dragged a hand down his face and hit Accept. “Hey.”
“Well?” she asked without preamble, her voice clipped, brisk, already two steps ahead of him.
“I know,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m on it.”
A dry huff crackled through the line. “Are you? Because I just watched the footage from yesterday—the door judging. Andunless my eyesight’s failing, you and your subject looked awfully cozy.”
Luke closed his eyes. “Linda?—”
“No.” Her voice sharpened. “Listen to me. This isn’t a fluff piece. I assigned you this story because you’re the one person I trust not to get snowed by a pretty face and a soft voice.”
Heat climbed up his neck, equal parts irritation and shame.
Linda pressed on. “You’re circling your original assignment like it’s some kind of Christmas miracle. Don’t do that. Influencers like her”—she broke off, scoffing—“they thrive on manufactured intimacy. It’s their business model. Make the world think they’re everyone’s best friend. Make people feel chosen, seen. And then profit from it.”
Luke gripped the phone tighter.
Linda’s voice lowered, purposeful. “People are getting fleeced, Luke. Donors. Followers. Kids. They’re handing over trust—and sometimes money—to people who know exactly how to manipulate them. If we don’t expose that, who will?”
His jaw ticked as Hannah’s face flickered uninvited in the corners of his mind.
Linda continued, almost softer—but still unyielding. “Don’t let proximity blur the story. And don’t let personal feelings compromise your judgment. You’re better than that. And this piece? It could be the one that finally gets you noticed.”
“I hear you,” Luke said quietly.
“Good.” Papers rustled on her end. “Then get me something real.”
The line went dead.
Luke lowered the phone, his chest tight. For a moment he just sat there, torn cleanly in two—between the woman he’d just spent the day with . . . and the dirt Linda was demanding he find.
