Chapter 2 Deadlines.

Maya's POV:

I grabbed my bag, checked my notebook and walked downstairs.

Mom and Lily had already left before me.

I knew because the house felt quieter than usual. Just silence and faint hum from the refrigerator.

Mom left early on weekdays. The restaurant wasn't far, just a few streets away, small and always busy by morning. Lily usually left not long after her, her school a little farther down, close enough that mom could still keep an eye on her if she wanted.

I locked the door behind me and paused for a second.

From the outside, our house looked modest, quiet and blending into the street.

Across the street, the café was already open.

The light were warm, the kind that made everything look calmer than it really was.

Someone was wiping the tables while a couple of people sat by the window, cups in their hands, moving slowly like they weren't in a rush to be anywhere else.

Sophia worked there part-time.

Not because she lived early mornings, but because the café was close to home and flexible to let her juggle her blogging gigs.

I started walking, heels tapping softly against the road, letting the house fade behind me.

As I headed toward the subway, I caught myself thinking about the meeting Nina had called.

The office was already loud when I got there. Phone ringing,keyboard tapping, people talking over each other.

"Morning, Maya," someone called from behind a desk.

"Morning," I replied, forcing energy into my voice.

I dropped my bags at the desk and barely had time to turn on my computer when Nina walked in.

"Good morning, everyone. Conference room. Now."

The room went quiet for half a second. Then chairs scraped, people stood and murmurs followed.

Inside the conference room, Nina stood at the head of the table, tablet in hand. She waited until everyone sat before she began.

"I'll get straight to it," she said. "Last week was...fine."

Fine. That word always sounded worse coming from her.

She tapped her tablet and the screen behind her lit up with numbers. Views. Engagement. Shares.

"Some of you did well. Some played it safe."

Her eyes moved slowly across the room. "We can't afford safe anymore."

One guy at the back cleared his throat. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Better," Nina said simply. Stronger. Stories that carries weight.

She walked a little, heels clicking softly against the floor.

"I don't want recycled gossip. I don't want "source say" with nothing to back it up. I want facts. I want impact. I want something that will sit on the front page and make people stop scrolling."

Silence.

"This week," she continued, "I want headlines. Real ones."

Someone laughed nervously. "That's a lot."

"That's the job," Nina replied without missing a beat.

She turned her gaze to me. I straightened without meaning to.

"Maya."

"Yes?"

"You've been consistent," she said. "Clean work. Solid writing. But I need more than solid."

My fingers curled up under the table.

"I know," I said quietly.

Her expression softened just a little. "I believe you can deliver. All of you can. But this week?" she paused. "This week is not the time to be afraid."

The meeting ends quietly.

"That's all," she says. "Back to work."

Chairs move. People stand. Conversations starts immediately like nothing heavy was just dropped on us.

I'm packing my notebook when I heard my name.

"Maya."

I look up.

Nina hasn't moved. She's still standing by the table, arms crossed loosely, watching everyone leave.

"Stay back small."

I nod and sit again.

Thr room empties fast, Nina pulls out a chair and sits, resting her elbows on the table.

"You've been quiet lately," she says.

"I've been working," I reply.

She gives a short nod. "I know."

She flips open my file, scans it quickly, then closes it again like she already knows what's inside.

"You don't rush stories," she says. "You don't exaggerate. And you don't publish what you can't stand behind."

I shift slightly. Compliments at work always make me uneasy. They usually come before more work.

She studies me for a second, then says, almost casually, "Have you ever looked into Ryan Hart?"

The name sits between us.

"The Hart Group CEO?" I ask, not reacting much.

"Yes."

I think for a moment. "Not really. There's nothing there."

Nina's mouth tilts a little, not quite a smile.

"That's what everyone says."

I keep my voice steady. "Some people are just private."

"Private people still exist in the world," she replies. "They just hide better."

I don't argue. I don't agree either.

"If you touch that kind of name," I say carefully, "and your source isn't solid, it becomes a problem. For the paper. For you."

"I know," Nina says. "Which is why I'm not assigning it."

She leans back slightly.

"I'm only suggesting it. You can look. Or you can find someone else. This isn't pressure."

I nod once.

"Whatever you bring me," she adds, "it has to hold weight."

She stands.

"That's all."

That was my dismissal.

I walked back to my desk, sat down and opened my laptop again. The blank document stared at me.

I typed a few random names. Deleted them. Typed again. Deleted.

Then I stopped.

Because the problem wasn't that I had no ideas. It was the fact that I was about to enter Ryan Hart's world.

My phone vibrates.

Sophia: "Lunch? I'm starving and my shift is dead."

I look at the time. Still early enough but my brain needs air anyway.

Me: "where are you?"

Sophia: "The café. Come before I start stealing pastries."

I smile a little, shut my laptop and grab my bags.

The café is a short walk. Small, warm, always smelling like coffee and sugar. Sophia is behind the counter when I walk in, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled in a loose bun that's already falling apart.

She sees me and her face lights up.

"Finally," she says. "I was about to text you,"urgent" so you'd hurry."

I drop my bag in the chair opposite the counter. "You always say that."

"And you always come." She shoots back, grinning.

"So," she says, sitting down. "How's work? You look like your brain has been doing overtime."

"It kind of had," We had a meeting."

Sophia groans. "Nina's meeting?"

I nod

"She doesn't call meeting for nothing," Sophia says. "What did she do want this time?"

"Bigger stories, Stronger headlines and Nothing careless."

She takes a sip of her coffee, eyes on me. "You're think yoo hard. That's your "something is wrong" face."

I sigh. "She mentioned someone."

Sophia eyebrows lift immediately. "Who?"

"Ryan Hart."

She blinks. Once. Then sits foward.

"The Ryan Hart?"

"Yes."

Sophia lets out a whistle. "That's...big."

"I know," I say quickly. "She didn't assign it. She just suggested it."

"That's still something," Sophia replies. "Nina doesn't just suggest names like that."

I stare into my cup. "That's what scared me."

Sophia studies my face. "Do you want to do it?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "He's too clean. And that kind of clean usually means either nothing at all... or something you don't want to touch without proof."

She nods slowly. "True."

I look up to her. "That's why I wanted to ask you. Does it even make sense to look into someone like that? Or am I just inviting trouble?"

Sophia doesn't answer immediately. She thinks first, the way she always does when it matters.

"I don't think you're wrong to be cautious," she says. "But I don't think Nina would bring him up for no reason."

I press my lips together. "That's what I'm afraid of."