Then he turned on his heel and walked away.
I let the silence hang. Just long enough for Caroline to give me a raised eyebrow and a muttered, “Well, shit.”
Liam slowly lowered the camera.
“That good enough for you?” Caroline asked.
“Perfect.” I exhaled.
The footage would speak for itself.
Ross had just looked the world in the eye… and blinked.
The smoke curled lazily from the centre of the table, warm and fragrant, tinged with garlic and charcoal. A strip of pork sizzled softly on the grill, golden at the edges. I flipped it with the tongs, mostly for something to do with my hands.
Across from me, Graham poured himself another soju, eyes never leaving my face.
“You looked like a damn assassin out there,” he said finally. “Remind me not to cross you.”
I smirked and reached for my water. “She said she’d call in a favour later. Caroline.”
He nodded. “She will. But it’ll be a fair one.”
“She didn’t even flinch. Just stepped aside and let me gut Ross on live TV.”
Graham tilted his head, lips quirking. “What else is television for?”
I let the silence stretch between us. The restaurant was half-full, mostly locals chatting in soft bursts of Korean. No one here cared who I was. No one was watching me weigh the end of my fling with Aleks against the truth I was about to publish.
“You read it?” I asked, voice low.
“All of it. Twice.” He gave a low whistle. “You’ve got something here. Solid, terrifying, career-ending something.”
I swallowed. My throat was dry, nerves scraping against the back of it like sandpaper.
“You’re not going to try to talk me out of running it?”
“Hell no.” He leaned in, dropped his voice. “This is the kind of thing we all say we’d publish. And you’re actually doing it. It’s brave as hell.”
I nodded, tight-lipped.
I slid my chopsticks into the bowl of rice, stirring without eating. “It’s not too much?”
“It’s exactly enough.” His tone left no room for argument. “Clean, sharp, devastating. You stuck to the facts. You let the evidence speak. And the way you framed Volkov...”
I winced, staring down at the grill.
“You didn’t crucify him, Elena.”
“I know. But it’s still going to hit him like a punch to the gut.”
“He’ll survive. And maybe... it’ll be what saves him.” Graham leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “You’ve always been the kind of journalist who gives people the rope. Whether they climb or hang is on them.”
“I care about him,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not in the article, but... it’s in every word.”
He gave a soft exhale, not quite a sigh. “You’re allowed to care. It doesn’t make the story any less true.”
“I just hope he sees that.”
