Can I have my cake and eat it too?
Okay, first things first. This article isn’t going to finish itself.
The Aldridge exposé. Months of investigation, twelve days in a cartel pit, a barefoot jungle escape, two weeks of recovery, and roughly nine thousand cups of coffee. All of it poured into one piece of journalism that is going to put a billionaire behind bars.
I do a full reread from the top. Slowly, going through every paragraph and sentence, every sourced claim. I check the shell company documentation one more time. The wire transfer records. The Cayman banking confirmations that came through two days ago. The timeline connecting Aldridge to the Reyes cartel, the domestic fraud, the money laundering.
It’s airtight. There’s nothing left to fix.
My finger hovers over send. This is the moment. The story that almost killed me, brought Jonus into my life and the story that’s going to take down the man who put me in that pit.
I hit send.
A long exhale leaves my body. Done. It’s in Melissa Duncan’s hands now. My editor will give it a read too, then handle legal’s final sign-off and coordinate the release timing with the other outlets. But my work — the investigation, the writing, the risking of my actual life — is finished.
“Well,” I whisper to Loki, “the risking of my actual life part isn’t perfectly over yet, is it?”
I sit back against the couch, sip my coffee and let myself feel pride for a job well done. A project off my plate. Aldridge doesn’t know it yet, but he’s already lost.
I pick up my phone and text the group chat. “Article sent to my editor, it’s DONE. Also, guess who walked to the kitchen and made her own coffee this morning?”
Anna responds first,QUEEN. I’m so proud of you.
Ellie answers from upstairs in this very house at 7:15 AM,Wait you’re up before Jonus?? Is he okay??
I type back,He’s sleeping hard. I don’t know why he’s so tired but I’m letting him rest.
Anna adds another excited comment,You finished the article!! This is HUGE. Aldridge is going DOWN.
I smile at my phone, warmth spreading through my chest. A year ago I didn’t know either of them. Now I can’t imagine my life without this group chat.
I have about thirty glorious minutes of quiet before the house wakes up. Just me, Loki, my coffee, and the knowledge that the biggest story of my career is officially out of my hands and into the world.
I text Lucy letting her know the good news too. She’s thrilled for me as well.Stay safe. Remain alert,she says.
I know she’s right. The article is being vetted right now, which means it’s not out for reals. And law enforcement isn’t ready to pounce just yet. This is still a risky time and I need to remain vigilant.
The first soundsof Saturday morning filter in. A door opens upstairs. Small feet pad on the hardwood, then Zoe appears at the bottom of the stairs in her pajamas, dragging a stuffed elephant, her hair a wild mess.
She sees me on the couch and her whole face lights up. “Sloane! You’re already here!”
“I am.” I pat the cushion beside me. “Come sit with me.”
She climbs up, tucking herself against my other side, so I’ve got a corgi on one thigh and a six-year-old on the other. Zoe reaches for Loki, who licks her fingers enthusiastically.
Ellie comes down next, still in her robe, and stops dead when she sees me. Her eyes go to my feet on the floor. To the coffee in my hand. To the distance between the bedroom and the couch.
“Did you walk here alone?”
“All by myself. Like a real grown-up.”
She crosses the room and hugs me, careful of the coffee. “I’m so proud of you.”
Garlen appears with a greeting and takes command of the stove. Saturday morning means epic breakfast and this is apparently a sacred tradition in the Irontree household. Pancakes are non-negotiable. Zoe insists on chocolate chips. Garlen pretends to consider this request seriously, as if there’s any universe where he says no to his daughter.
I watch all of it from the couch and something warm expands in my chest. I’m living in someone else’s house, sleeping in someone else’s bed. And yet I’ve never felt more at home anywhere in my life.
I never thought I’d be comfortable living with a family of orcs. A year ago I was writing about orc integration from a professional distance, interviewing Jonus Irontree for a fifteen-minute quote that turned into an hour-long conversation. Now I’m watching a seven-foot-tall green professor flip pancakes while his pregnant human wife packs their daughter’s craft bag and a corgi begs shamelessly for scraps at everyone’s feet.
