“So you really didn’t write that article?” Sutton questions. “I read it, and… woof. It was brutal.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” I grumble. “No, that wasn’t the article I meant to write, but I did write a journal entry with a lot of theterrible things in the magazine. I need to find out how it got included in the publication instead of what I originally wrote.”
“That’s some shady shit,” Skyler murmurs. “I wonder if someone got into your computer somehow and made the switch.”
I frown. “How would someone be able to do that?”
“It’d be easy if they have your password,” Skyler explains. “Could someone access that information?”
I think about it for a moment… it wouldn’t be impossible. Someone would just have to say the right thing to IT and they could potentially get it.
“Guys, I gotta go,” I say as this idea tumbles through my mind. “I need to go check something out at my office.”
“Okay,” Grace replies. “Be careful, Rylee, and keep us updated on how you’re doing, please!”
“I will, I promise.” And I mean it. I’m not going to block my girls out again. “I love you all and will talk soon.”
“Love you!” they all declare in near unison.
I hang up the call and quickly get ready for the day.
When I leave my room, I’m dressed and filled with a new determination. I find her back in the kitchen, but she’s not crying this time, thank God. She’s cooking French toast and has syrup, powdered sugar, and a bowl of berries set out on the kitchen table.
She looks up at me when I walk in and gives me a tentative smile.
“Perfect timing,” she says, sounding hopeful but cautious. “I was just about to come find you. Breakfast is ready.”
“Great,” I reply with a reassuring grin, though it falters for a moment.
Mom gives me a concerned look, because of course she catches it. “Are you okay?”
I hesitate before answering, “Mom, I’ve decided I’m only staying here today. I need to get back to Colorado and fix things… and I need to do it the right way.”
Mom stares at me a moment, eyes wide, but then her expression softens and her smile becomes tender.
“Oh, I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart.” She turns the stove off and hurries to me to wrap me in a hug. “You’re not running away. I’m proud of you.”
Pulling back, she meets my gaze and asks, “What’s your plan?”
“Good question. I need to figure out why my journal entry was published as the article in ICON. I know I must have accidentally put the entry in my work folder instead of my personal one, but it wasn’t labeled as the article and I emailed Juliet letting her know which file specifically to use. It makes no sense that she would use the wrong one.”
Mom furrows her brow and nods. “I think that would definitely be worth looking into. Maybe a trip to your office to ask your boss directly.”
“It’s Monday, but the office is closed until the afternoon on Mondays since we work so many weekends to get the magazine released on time,” I murmur as I consider my options. “But I should still go over and see if there’s anything weird on my computer there. I have access to the company’s drive on my laptop, but something could’ve happened on my desktop. I’ll have to take a raincheck on shopping.”
“Of course, sweetheart. You go take care of business.”
When I get to the office, it’s empty and quiet. I use my keycard to get access and quickly make my way to my desk. Turning on my computer, I bring up my email and the share folder and double check that everything is labeled correctly and that my instructions to Juliet were as clear as I remember.
So what happened? How did they end up with the wrong article?
Who edited my journal article in the first place? When I first wrote it, it definitely wasn’t as well-written and put together on my computer as it appeared in the magazine. I was drunk for fuck’s sake. Could it have been my editor? No… no, that doesn’t make any sense. The editor only receives what Juliet gives them, and they have strict instructions not to lie or change the meaning of things in the article. Any serious edits are briefed with the writer.
Damn it. I might have to talk to IT to figure out if anyone messed with my files, but since no one’s here right now, I can’t go question them. Who knows how long I’ll even have access to all this stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if Juliet fires my ass. Did she rewrite my drunken rant into whatever the hell this article was? Why would she do that without even contacting me about it?
Letting out a long sigh, I turn my computer off and make my way back out of the office and onto the sidewalk in front of the building. Resigned, I start heading toward my car, but I barely make it two steps before something catches my attention on the other side of the street.
It’s Blaire. She’s walking down the sidewalk, her long black hair loose down her back, wearing a short blue sundress. She’s not alone.
