“Great,” he said, blowing out a breath. “I’ll get on the phone with Heather immediately.”

“I should probably get a hold of my editor to talk about damage control,” Liz said. “How do you think they’ll spin it?”

“How would you spin it?”

Liz slowed her mind enough to think about it from a reporting side. “Congressman Maxwell’s girlfriend is spinning articles on policy to promote his platform. Or maybe Congressman’s girlfriend hiding behind another pseudonym—what else are they hiding?”

Everyone stared at her and she clenched her jaw. “I only think of the worst because it was my job.”

“I’ll go call Heather.”

“Just when she was starting to like me,” Liz whispered.

“It’ll be okay,” he insisted before pulling out his phone and making the call.

Liz wasn’t so sure. She had a decision to make. She had had something like this blow up in her face before, and she had no intention of it happening again. Before she had sat idly by as the media displayed her life how they saw fit. She had an opportunity to take control and she was going to need to seize it now before anything destroyed all that she and Brady had worked toward.

She opened up her email and wasn’t all that surprised to already see one waiting for her from the editor, Tom Vernon. So, he already knew, and he wanted to speak with her on the phone. He had listed his number.

Tom answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Tom, this is Liz Dougherty. How are you today?”

“Miss Dougherty, what a pleasure to finally speak to the person behind Dear Congress.”

“Thank you, sir. You are headquartered in New York City, correct?”

“What? Oh yes.”

“As this is a difficult situation, would you mind if we met today to discuss it in person? I’m in the city until late this evening.”

After a brief pause, he responded. “I believe that can be arranged.”

Tom Vernon’s office was cluttered with old cups of coffee, empty 5-hour Energy shots, and piles and piles of paper. The sight of the office probably explained why it took so long for him to get back to her most days.

“Miss Dougherty, so nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” she said politely.

“I trust you found the office just fine.”

“Yes, I did.” Liz crossed her legs and sat up straighter. “Do you mind if we get to the point of this matter? It’s clearly out to the public that I’m Dear Congress.”

Tom straightened his tie at her curt demeanor. “Well, yes, of course. I was the one who contacted CNN about it.”

Liz’s mouth fell open slightly. “You did what?”

“It’s an election year, Ms. Dougherty, and we’re always trying to garner more readers. So I made a discreet call to a source at CNN. With your celebrity status we could be huge!”

“You outed me to the press for more media coverage?” she asked, shocked.

“Look, we love your work here as Dear Congress and we’d like to keep you on. You generate buzz. You’re popular. People are interested in reading what you have to say, and they were interested in it before finding out who you are. Do you know what it will be like come Monday when it appears on CNN? Through the roof.”

His eyes were shifty, his smile too big; his entire body language was overly enthusiastic. All she saw when she looked at him was desperation oozing out of every pore. He wanted her to stay and he wanted it badly. He liked the controversy. He liked the promise of increased readership to the online column that the scandal could deliver. He would probably pay her double or triple what he had been paying her. All because her name was attached to it.

“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Vernon, but I have to decline,” she said, standing.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“Besides the fact that you outed me to the press without my consent? When we had a deal to keep my work anonymous?”

“But it’s going to generate huge numbers for you!”

She wished that she knew how to explain it to him in a way that would make sense. When she had written her first article for him it had been because she didn’t have any other options. She had wanted to prove to herself as much as to everyone else that she could still write articles and be successful on her own. She had needed these articles.

Now what did she have? Brady, school, her charity, and Justin’s blog, which she loved. The world was at her feet. The need that she’d had before was gone. She had already proven to herself that she was good enough. Plus, so much of the fun of being the Dear Congress persona had been the anonymity and knowing that no one else really knew who she was. Without it, the idea lost some of its intrigue.

So, Liz raised her chin and gave him the best answer that she knew how. “No amount of notoriety would be worth it, Mr. Vernon. Furthering my career off of my relationship with Brady wouldn’t be right. If that means leaving the articles behind, then so be it,” she said. “I quit!”

She wasn’t a pawn in someone else’s game. She wouldn’t let the media or Tom Vernon or anyone else dictate how she was going to live from now on.

Chapter 29

FIANCÉ

So you got fired again?” Justin asked over the phone later that day.

“I wasn’t fired. I quit,” Liz insisted.

“You hold down jobs worse than I do.”

“You started your own business and seem to be doing okay with that.”

Justin snorted. “Only because I’m the boss.”

“Well, whatever. I decided that I was with the company only because I had been desperate after graduation. It filled a void and now I don’t really need it anymore.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, his casual demeanor momentarily disappearing. “You’re not calling to break up with me, are you?”

Liz rolled her eyes. “If you’re asking if I’m leaving the site, then no. Not unless you don’t want any more drama behind my name. I just thought you would like to know the nonsense your employee is getting into.”

“Oh. You know I don’t give a fuck,” he said, sounding relieved. “I just thought you’d want to leave, since you’re going to be Mrs. Maxwell and all.”

Mrs. Maxwell. Her whole body tingled. Holy shit! She was really going to marry Brady. She sighed pleasantly at the thought.