Page 111 of Emperor of Corruption
My brows slam down. My heartrate triples in speed, even though I know nothing—nothingcould make tonight worse.
I’m shortly proven wrong when I fish my phone out of its compartment and power it on. I have twenty missed calls from Locke, and about a hundred texts. One comes in just as I’m gearing to call him back—it’s a link to an article.
An article written by an anonymous source, titled,NYC’s favorite philanthropist not so philanthropic…?
The clickbait title gives way to an article that chills me to the bones.
Somehow, the night managed to getmuchfucking worse.
Chapter Forty
Lyra
2 hours earlier…
Istare at my phone, my mind numb, my body wracked in shivers, my composure dissolved.
I stare at the tape of me—moaning, writhing, begging—playing out on a random porn site. The video is titled,Big-Shot Reporter Begs for Pain and Cum. The hashtags are, #masochist, #painslut, #begging, #degradation #hotshotmadetobend. The video was sent to me from an unknown number, along with the message,Get out of town before it’s too late.
My life as I know it is over. I fall down on my couch, stuck in a state of numbness. I should be crying. I should be screaming. I should be losing it—I should be doing anythingbutwhat I do, which is watching the video start to end, over and over again. It plays on repeat, and I watch my world crumble on repeat, yet I still can’t manage tofeelanything.
I must be in shock.
My phone is blowing up with calls and texts, so I put it on do not disturb. Instead, I call the one person who Ijustspoke to—who has the only recourse, only revenge I can find chambered and ready to shoot.
“Lyra,” Tommy picks up, panic threaded through his voice. “Fuck, Lyra—”
“Release the exposé,” I hear myself say flatly. “The one targeting Killian while only implying the other two. Release it anonymously, and put it everywhere.”
Tommy’s silent for what could be a millisecond or hours. Time has no meaning to me anymore; not when it’s lost its value. I have nothing to look forward to, and nothing to look back on. I’m never showing my face at work again. I’m never seeing Killian again. My gaze turns to my living room window.
I’m pretty high up. I could jump to my death—and I don’t think I’d even feel it very much. The impact with cold New York City pavement should crack my skull straight open, especially if I dive headfirst.
“Lyra…” Tommy releases a long breath. “He’ll know it was you.”
“Just like I know he leaked the tape.” I stand, inching toward the window, one step at a time. Jumping is becoming more and more appealing.
“You’re opening Pandora’s Box,” Tommy warns me.
A broken, dissonant smile stretches my lips as I undo the lock on the window and slide it open. “It was already open, Tommy. Now, I’m shedding light on the demons that were released all that time ago.” I’m not making any sense, and I’m not aiming to. A cool gust of November wind blows over my body, raising goosebumps on my skin. My next breath shudders out of me.
“You need to get out of the country if you want to survivethis—”
“I don’t plan to survive it,” I say mildly, sticking a hand out the window and testing the temperature of the evening air.Chilly. I’d put on a sweater if it made any difference, but it doesn’t.
“Don’t talk like that,” Tommy hisses.
“I have nothing to live for,” I say flatly.
“You haveeverythingto live for. Getting more awards. Getting married. Having kids.”
His last words snap me partially out of my trance. I stumble back a step, nearly falling to the apartment floor, blinking.
Kids.
My hands move to my stomach. A kid. An innocent baby that’s baking in my stomach as we speak.
Something cuts through the fog and dissonance. A fierce, clawing, feral emotion. A form of love that feels almost animalistic in its vigor.
