The air was thick with tension as we stared at each other, neither speaking first.
Finally, he sighed deeply and conceded:
"Fine. But you must take bodyguards. And you can never leave their protection. That's the bottom line, Anna. Non-negotiable."
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. Though reluctant, it was the best compromise available. At least I could return to work.
The next day, I walked into the newsroom flanked by four bodyguards in black suits. Every colleague stared at me like I was an alien, whispers spreading throughout the office. I could feel their curious and shocked gazes burning into me, making me extremely uncomfortable.
The editor called me into his office, diplomatically suggesting that this kind of spectacle was disrupting normal operations.
"Anna, I understand you may be facing some... security issues," he said carefully, "but these bodyguards are making other employees nervous. Can you handle this situation?"
I awkwardly promised to deal with it, though I knew it was nearly impossible.
The afternoon interviews were a complete disaster. I'd arranged to meet an informant willing to expose government corruption, but when he saw those stone-faced bodyguards in black suits behind me, he went pale and fled with some excuse.
Every subsequent interview subject had the same reaction. Some even canceled over the phone just hearing voices in the background.
My work was completely paralyzed.
Standing on the street, watching the bodyguards maintain their emotionless vigil behind me, I finally exploded. I pulled out my phone and called Alexander.
"Are you satisfied now?" I launched straight into accusation. "I can'twork at all!"
"Anna, calm down—"
"Calm down?" I nearly laughed. "My sources are all scared off, my colleagues are gossiping behind my back, my editor is questioning my professional competence. Is this the protection you wanted?"
"I just want to ensure your safety." His voice sounded weary.
"But you've ruined my work!" I accused. "I'm a journalist. I need to interact with all kinds of people, earn their trust. Now what? They see me and think I'm trouble incarnate!"
"Better that than you getting hurt."
"This isn't protection, it's control!" I said angrily. "You don't understand my work, and you don't respect my choices!"
"I won't compromise, Anna. Safety first, no exceptions."
With that, he hung up.
I stared at my phone in anger and despair, but the bodyguards continued to shadow me like four black specters.
I forced myself to calm down and began devising an escape plan. As a journalist, I'd learned how to get what I needed in difficult situations.
I deliberately feigned illness, clutching my stomach and saying I needed to go to the hospital for tests. Though nervous, the bodyguards couldn't prevent me from seeking medical care.
In the hospital's chaos, I seized the opportunity while changing into a patient gown to slip out the back door.
Finally able to move freely, I felt a long-lost sense of liberation. I arranged to meet my most important source—a government accountant who possessed key evidence of corruption.
We met at a secluded café on the outskirts of the city. The informant was nervous, constantly glancing around, but eventually provided the evidence I needed—recordings, photographs, and financial records.
"This is enough to bring down those corrupt officials," he said nervously, "but be careful—they have considerable influence."
I nodded, carefully securing the crucial evidence—enough to topple that accountant and perhaps expose the complex network behind him.
When I left, it was already late. Checking the time, I had only two hours before the evening news deadline. To save time, I chose a shortcut.
