Page 114 of Living on the Edge

Lexi’s being so nice it makes me cry harder.

I dig a tissue out of my purse, unable to articulate how I’m feeling or how to explain what’s happened.

“I didn’t do this,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “I swear to you, I would never…”

“Oh, shit.” Zaan is a professional hockey player who towers over me, and I have to look up to see his face.

“Let me see!” Lexi takes a copy from him and starts to read. “Oh my God. Ryleigh, what did you do?” She gazes at me in astonishment.

“I didn’t! My editor…” I cover my face with my hands.

“This is bad, Ryleigh.” Zaan lowers the magazine.

“Callum did this,” I whisper. “Callum and my editor. I don’t know how I’m going to prove it, but this wasn’t me.”

“Does Angus know?” Lexi asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I texted him but he hasn’t responded or called me back. He’s in Minneapolis to confront his uncle about being his father. And now this—oh my God, what am I going to do?”

“You better figure something out,” Lexi says softly, “because no one is going to be happy about this.”

“He makes me sound like a cross between a brainless social media influencer and a prostitute—even if I was going to talk about what I know, I wouldn’t write it this way!”

“The end is awful,” Lexi says, shaking her head.

“And now that the truth has come to light—about both Angus and Crimson Edge—it seems that there’s more to modern rock and roll debauchery than sex and drugs. In some ways, this is much, much worse. A slimy, back-room affair under cover of the Holland-Burke dynasty intertwined with a band setting out to destroy their rivals, in whatever way necessary…”

This is horrible and not even close to the article I sent in.

And the worst part is that there’s no way for me to prove my innocence.

Chapter35

Angus

I’m havingbreakfast with Uncle Alex—I don’t know if I can adjust to calling him Dad, not yet anyway—when his butler brings in the morning paper. And a copy ofRock Harder Magazine, which I asked him to get last night. I’m staying at Uncle Alex’s since there’s no point in opening up my house for a day when I have to turn around and leave again.

“I think, sir, you may want to brace yourself,” Rupert, Alex’s longtime butler and friend, says as he lays two copies ofRock Harderdown, one for each of us.

“Brace myself?” Alex asks, looking up. “For what?”

“You’ll need to read it, sir.” He gives me a weird look before refilling my cup and leaving the room.

“What’s with him?” I ask in confusion.

“I have no idea. I’ve never seen him act this way.” Alex puts on his reading glasses, picks up the magazine, and smiles. “Look, there’s Ryleigh’s name right on the cover. Though I can’t say I’m fond of the article’s title.”

I look down and frown. “That’s not what she titled it—I read it before she sent it off.”

“Oh, fuck.” Alex is reading and his face pales a little. “Angus, what did she do?”

“Who?” I ask.

“Is this the kind of journalism she writes?” he demands. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He tosses down the magazine, grabs his phone, and makes a call. “Vi—you need to come over right now—right fucking now, Vi. I’m not kidding. Get in your car and drive to my house. Immediately. Your future depends on it.” He disconnects and makes another call.

“Who are you calling?” I demand. “Was that my mother? What’s going on?”

“Read the fucking story, Angus.”

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