Page 106 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
Mabel smiled warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not nearly enough, Hallie, but it’s always nice to hear.”
My mind raced as I left Mabel’s office and made my way toward Anthea’s. I’d gone through the stages of grief over the past few days. I’d spent the first night in a state of denial that James was icing me out. Then the next day in a state of anger that he wouldn’t take the time to hear me out, despite how bad the optics were. But confronting Anthea that day would’ve been reckless, with all the raw emotions still bubbling inside me. So instead, I took a long weekend. I cried on Roxie’s shoulder, ranted over takeout, and reread the article more times than was probably healthy. Somewhere between the tears and the carb-loading, I found the clarity I needed—not just to face Anthea, but to do it without burning my entire career to the ground.
I didn’t move on from the anger stage—just redirectedit to Anthea Sparks. There wasn’t a chance I was going to be bargaining with her today. I’d already done plenty of that after asking for a fair shot at the food critic position. Which was exactly how I ended up in this situation.
Anthea had a pair of glasses perched on her nose as she stared at her computer screen. I was certain that she didn’t need those glasses, and they were purely an accessory. Totally deceptive, just like her.
I hesitated with my hand on the handle to the door of her office for only a minute, watching her. I used to be so terrified of her, but I wanted to be her at the same time. Her tenacity. Her wit. Her industry knowledge. Her reputation. They were all traits that I aspired to have. But now my view of her felt tainted. If she was the person who had changed my story without consulting me, which was the most likely option, all my respect for her and this place would cease to exist.
Not giving myself any further time to back out, I knocked on the door and opened it without waiting to see if it was alright to enter.
“Hallie,” Anthea said. “What can I do for you?”
If it weren’t for the anger blinding my judgment, I would have turned around and walked out. But maybe the anger was allowing me to see clearly for the first time.
I took a deep breath and stepped further into Anthea’s office. Every change that was made echoed in my mind, reminding me why I was here. I knew that once I did this, there was no going back. This would likely be the last time I set foot inSophisticate. But I owed it to myself and to the Rossi family to sort this out.
With a firm voice, I looked Anthea straight in the eye and said, “You changed my story without my consent.”
Surprise flickered across Anthea’s face for a split second. She adjusted her glasses. “Well, first and foremost, the contract you signed when you came toSophisticatestated that the company could take creative liberty over your work and shape it how we see fit. Hallie, I understand your frustration, but I assure you, it was necessary. The readership that ‘Love on Wall Street’ has grown isn’t looking for something soppy and boring. That kind of sentimental stuff will not get the same clicks and shares that the other installments of the column have. They come toSophisticateto escape their boring lives and read about a life of glamour. If you want the food critic position, you better get used to stylizing articles. I did you a favor.”
Her words hung in the air, attempting to justify her actions. But I wasn’t about to back down. “A favor? You broke my trust. I poured my heart and soul into that piece, and you didn’t even have the decency to discuss it with me. That isn’t something a good editor would do.”
I held my ground, refusing to let Anthea’s attempt at justification sway me. There was no going back now. All the hard work I’d poured into this magazine deserved to be honored.
“A good editor would have communicated with me,” I continued, my voice steady. I had idolized this woman. I’d put her up on a pedestal, only for everything I’d believed about her to turn out to be false. “We could have discussed alternative ideas, found a compromise that respected both the readership and my vision. For you to think that our readership isn’t looking for a happy ending to vicariouslylive through is your biggest oversight yet. They would have eaten my original article up.”
Anthea shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“I understand the need to cater to the readership’s desires,” I acknowledged, trying to maintain a level of understanding despite my anger. “But there are ways to do it without sacrificing artistic integrity. As an editor, it’s your role to guide and support the writers, not to manipulate their work for the sake of popularity.”
Anthea opened her mouth to speak, but I held up a hand, silencing her.
“I didn’t come here seeking an apology or an explanation. I came to reclaim my voice, to remind myself why I started writing forSophisticate. This place has led the industry in its innovation. It has covered stories that trulymatterto women. I thought I had found my forever home with this company, but I’m realizing now that it was only an avenue for me to find myself.”
With each word, the weight of my decision lifted from my shoulders. The realization that I had outgrown this place, that my potential lay beyond these walls, fueled my determination. I straightened up, staring directly into Anthea’s eyes.
“Today is my last day atSophisticate. I will send you my resignation as soon as I get home,” I declared. “Sophisticatedeserves more than somebody who wants to put its reputation at risk by fabricating articles for clickbait. That definitely isn’t a publication that I want to be a part of.”
Anthea’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to protest, but words seemed to escape her for once. I could see the realization dawning on her face—the loss of atalented writer, the consequences of her actions. The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with tension. But there was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do that could fix this.
She knew it.
I knew it.
“Hallie,” Anthea called just as I reached the door.
I paused, hand on the knob, and turned back toward her.
“I know whatever you’ll do next in your career … it will be magnificent.”
I wanted to be angry at her for thinking she could compliment menow. After she’d upended my entire life. After she’d taken away everything that I had been working for. But I’d come to realize in the moments I stood in front of her that she was merely misguided. Clouded by her own judgment of what the world wanted—glamour, power, wealth. When all most people really wanted was connection. I couldn’t fault her for coming to that realization, even if it was at my own expense.
“You’re not going to ask me to stay?” I was shocked I’d even asked the one question that was bouncing around in my head.
Anthea pursed her lips. “You are one of the best writers here and with the popularity of ‘Love on Wall Street’, you will be missed by our readers. But I’m not sureSophisticateis where you truly are meant to be. I think we’ve both known that for quite some time.”
That should’ve felt like a lethal blow. There was a time that I would have died for this place and what it meant to me growing up. But there was no denying the truth in her words.
