Rose’s POV
The cab ride to the Channel 7 office felt endless, the morning rush hour traffic doing little to mask the rising tide of dread in my chest. My boss’s harsh words from the previous day echoed in my mind, but I clung to the faint hope that if I explained everything to him in person—pleaded my case—he might reconsider.
I rehearsed the conversation in my head, over and over. The truth about Club Jiggy, the photograph, and how someone had clearly set me up. I couldn’t let Angelo ruin me like this.
When the cab finally pulled up outside the familiar glass-fronted building, I paid the fare with shaky hands and stepped out, clutching my bag tightly as if it were armor.
Inside, the lobby bustled with its usual activity, reporters and producers moving with purpose. It felt surreal to
