“Well, if anyone can handle this kind of sensitive content with integrity, it’s Dylan,” Blair says confidently.
“True,” Stella agrees. “But what are you going to do?”
I let out the deep breath I’ve been holding. “This is a legitimate story I can’t ignore. Senator Carmichael is announcing his gubernatorial run next month. Voters deserve to know who they’re electing.”
“But…” Stella prompts.
“But Lucas will be hurt. And he’ll feel betrayed that I didn’t tell him immediately.” I sink deeper into my chair. “I’ve been verifying facts before bringing it to him, but the more I confirm, the worse itlooks.”
“How bad are we talking?” Blair asks, shifting into the protective mode she uses with her clients. “Criminal? Civil? PR nightmare?”
“Mostly the latter,” I explain, reaching for the summary I’ve prepared. “Based on what I’ve found, Logan Carmichael has a pattern of making advances toward female staffers and then retaliating professionally when rejected. Not physical assault, but definite harassment and abuse of power.”
“And you’ve confirmed this?” Blair’s tone is careful, measured.
“Employment records show the pattern. All three women were rising stars who suddenly departed under vague circumstances. I have text messages that, while not explicitly sexual, show inappropriate personal interest. And their stories align perfectly despite them never having communicated with each other.”
Blair nods, processing. “Credible but not catastrophic. A good PR team could manage the fallout.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Stella asks softly.
I stare into my wine glass like it might contain answers, but all it reflects is my own hesitation. I’ve built my life around exposing these kinds of stories. I know how this works. I know the patterns, the power imbalances, and the careful silencing. But this one feels different. It’s not just a headline. It’s Lucas. It’s his family. And the thought of him finding out this way, of me being the one to break it, twists something in my chest.
“If I tell him now,” I murmur, “he might try to spin it. Bury it. Not because he’s like them, but because he’s loyal. Because it’s his family. And if I publish without warning…” There’s a chance our marriage might not survive. And I don’t want that. I’m not ready for it to end. Not even close. I know it was pretend, temporary, but now the idea of it ending feels like losing something real.
“He cares about you,” Stella says gently. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”
I hope so, because the thought of hurting him makes my stomach turn, and that scares me more than the story itself.
“I just need to be sure,” I say finally, setting the glass down. “About what I have. About how I bring it to him. About everything.”
Blair suddenly pales, and her hand flies to her mouth. “Excuse me,” she mumbles, bolting toward the bathroom.
Stella and I exchange concerned glances as retching sounds echo down the hallway.
“Food poisoning?” I wonder, eyeing the charcuterie board suspiciously.
Stella’s eyes widen. “Or something else. She’s been looking tired lately. And she skipped wine at a premiere party last week.”
Blair emerges from the bathroom looking slightly green. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Are you pregnant?” Stella blurts out, subtlety abandoned.
Blair freezes, her expression cycling rapidly through shock, denial, and then dawning realization. “I’m late. But I’ve been so busy with Sophia’s streaming deal that I didn’t even notice…” She sits heavily on the couch. “Oh, my God.”
“When was your last period?” I ask.
“Six…no, seven weeks ago?” Blair looks dazed. “Wyatt and I have been talking about starting a family, but not until next year…”
“Well,” Stella says brightly, pulling out her phone, “looks like your timeline got accelerated. DoorDash has pregnancy tests, right?”
Twenty minutes and one very generous tip to a bewildered delivery driver later, Blair emerges from the bathroom clutching a plastic stick, her expression unreadable.
“Well?” Stella and I demand in unison.
A smile breaks across Blair’s face as tears well in her eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
The next few minutes are a blur of excited squeals, hugs, and happy tears. Blair pulls out her phone, her hands shaking. “I need to call Wyatt.”
