Chapter 4

"The Davidsons' long-lost older son is actually pretty handsome. He's got that cool, reserved look."

The tips of my ears burned.

My social anxiety nearly kicked in again. I had to clench the hem of my jacket just to keep myself composed as I continued into the ballroom, my expression carefully neutral.

Flynn immediately came over and threw an arm around my shoulders, smiling warmly. "Cullen, you're here. Come on, I'll introduce you to a few senior members of the Writers' Association. That way, when you join someday, you'll already know people who can look out for you."

He led me over to several men in suits, his voice deliberately soft and sweet. "Cullen posts some stories online. He isn't very well-known yet, so I hope you'll all give him some guidance."

Several board members looked me up and down before giving dismissive smiles.

"Getting into the association takes real talent. Good looks won't get you very far."

"Exactly. You can't scribble a few stories online and expect to be admitted. Our standards aren't that low."

I idly tapped a fingertip against my glass and said nothing.

Eventually, their conversation shifted to the upcoming election for association president.

One of the board members sighed. "Flynn, your rival's novel, The Crossing, has been sitting at the top of the rankings for almost a month. If you don't release something new soon, you might lose the presidency."

Before Flynn could answer, a young woman beside him spoke up, "Flynn's entering the Nobel Predictor Award. Once he wins gold, who cares about the election?"

Several board members shook their heads.

"That competition is brutal. Midnight Ember is the only writer from this country who's ever won gold. No one else has even made the shortlist."

"The association has invited Midnight Ember to join several times, but they've never even responded. No one knows anything about them. We don't even know if they're a man or a woman."

I was getting bored just listening to them.

I told Flynn I was going to the restroom, then slipped away and found an empty corner to sit in. I pulled out my phone, opened my writing app, and continued working on the final pages of Dark River.

At some point, Sloan sat down across from me. She got straight to the point. "Give Dark River to Flynn. He'll use it for the competition."

My fingers stopped above the screen.

Something tightened around my heart, leaving a dull ache in my chest.

Sloan knew better than anyone that I'd spent three years perfecting Dark River. I'd written it with the Nobel Prize in mind.

When I'd first outlined the novel, she'd stayed up with me for three nights straight, helping me work through the logic chapter by chapter.

The comments went wild.

[Here we go! He's definitely going to use Dark River as leverage against the heroine!]

[Bet he's about to demand something outrageous!]

I looked up at her. My throat was dry, but my voice remained calm.

"No."

Then I stood and walked away.

My phone vibrated. I glanced down.

[European Academy of Literature: Your application for admission has been approved. Please submit your enrollment documents by the 30th of this month.]

I stared at the message for three seconds. The corner of my mouth lifted slightly.

Ignoring Sloan's furious expression behind me, I walked straight out of the ballroom.

A few days later, I was filling out paperwork at the visa application center when a trending notification appeared on my phone.

[Flynn Davidson's Dark River Shortlisted for Nobel Predictor Award, Becoming First American Writer Since Midnight Ember to Earn Recognition]

I shot to my feet. The papers in my hands scattered across the floor.

I rushed outside, hailed a cab, and went straight to the Davidson house.

The moment I opened my bedroom door, I froze.

My computer had been destroyed. The motherboard, hard drive, and keyboard had been ripped apart and scattered everywhere. The screen was shattered into a spiderweb of cracks. Even the hard drive had been bent.

I stood there trembling from head to toe.

For the first time, the comments changed their tune.

[The heroine seriously went too far this time... She destroyed his computer for Flynn.]

[I've been trashing the villain this whole time, but I'm actually starting to feel bad for him.]

I pulled out my phone and called Adrian, my throat tight.

"My computer's been destroyed. The original files for Dark River were all on it. Find me the best data-recovery specialist you can. I don't care what it costs."

The moment I hung up, I took a cab straight to Starlight Media.

The receptionist tried to stop me, but I went around her and kicked open the door to the CEO's office.

Sloan was sitting behind her desk. When she saw me, she actually raised an eyebrow.

Without wasting a word, I strode up to her desk and slammed my palm down hard enough to make everything on it jump.

"You know what Dark River means to me."

Sloan stared at me for a moment.

Then, unbelievably, she smiled. Her eyes were ice-cold.