His brows knit slightly, but he doesn’t even look at the folder. “On what subject?”
“On the Rathores and their involvement in—” I start, but he lifts a hand, cutting me off.
“Meera, drop it.”
“But sir, please, just read the story,” I plead, leaning forward and pressing my palms against the desk. “You have to see this.”
He removes his glasses and sets them on the table. “I am rejecting the story.”
I knew convincing him wouldn’t be easy, but I came prepared. “Give me a chance to explain. Please,” I press, leaning slightly forward. “Sir, you haven’t even heard the details.”
“I don’t need to. You’re heading into dangerous territory, and we’re not touching it,” he says firmly, his eyes sharp, warning me without raising his voice.
“You’re not getting it, sir. I have a lead that’s credible. I have proof. I just need—” I insist, but he cuts me off again.
“No.”
“Sir—”
He sighs. “Look, you’re good at what you do. But not every battle needs to be fought.”
I feel heat rise behind my eyes. “Then what’s the point of being a journalist if we can’t bring the truth to the people?”
He holds my gaze. “The point is to be smart enough to survive.”
“This article is important, sir.”
“So is my company,” he replies, lifting the folder and tossing it into the bin next to his desk. “Meera, I am not allowing this story. That’s final.”
I sit there, stunned, anger and disappointment swirling in my stomach like a storm.
Finally, he puts his glasses back on. “Work on the education reform piece. That’s your assignment now.”
I stand slowly.
“Understood,” I say, even though every part of me screams that I won’t back down.
I push the cabin door open when I hear his voice from behind.
“Meera.”
I pause and glance over my shoulder.
“It’s for your own good,” he says.
I don’t answer. I turn back to the door and step out.
This time, I don’t need anyone’s permission to tell the truth. I’ll find a way to tell it anyway.
Chapter 4
Dev
I slam my palms on the desk so hard the entire surface rattles. But I don’t care about the mess. My eyes stay locked on the waiter. He immediately flinches, stumbling back a step, terror stretching his eyes wide.
Good.He should be scared. He went behind my back, and now he’ll learn exactly what that costs him.
My jaw ticks as I recall my assistant walking in earlier, visibly pale and nervous, saying the chief editor had called to report that one of his journalists claimed to have a ‘big lead’ on us. The editor had rejected the article immediately, of course, for obvious reasons. And after that, it didn’t take long to find the traitor.
