Lahat ng Kabanata ng Burning Desire : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

(Hannah’s POV) The newsroom was a beast—fast-moving, loud, and completely intimidating. Phones rang. Keys clacked against keyboards at lightning speed. People shouted over each other, throwing out headlines and edits. It was everything I imagined and more. And I was standing in the middle of it, trying not to look completely lost. I took a deep breath and focused on my desk, pretending I knew exactly what I was doing. The file the manager gave us sat unopened in front of me. Should I go through it? Ask someone what to do? Wait for instructions? Before I could decide, a deep voice cut through the chaos. “Interns, listen up.” I turned, and there he was—Nathaniel Rhodes. The man in charge of us. The man who, up until this moment, hadn’t even looked our way. Now that I saw him up close, I understood why people fell silent when he spoke. He had this calm, effortless authority, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to be noticed. His dark hair was neatly styled, his sleev

(Hannah’s POV) The next morning, I was at Blackstone Publishing by 7:30 a.m. sharp—caffeinated, dressed in my most professional outfit, and ready to prove I could handle this assignment. I wish I could say my nerves weren’t eating me alive, but that would be a huge lie. They were. This wasn’t just some small rewrite assignment. This was my first real chance to be taken seriously. And if I messed up? Well, let’s just say I wasn’t going to give Nathaniel Rhodes the satisfaction of thinking I couldn’t handle it. I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor, my fingers tightening around the folder Nathaniel had given me. The details inside were thin—a nightclub downtown had burned down overnight, the fire department had ruled it as suspicious, and the police were holding a press conference at 8 a.m. to address it. There were whispers that the owner of the club had powerful connections, which meant this wasn’t just about a fire—it was about who wa

I had spent the past few days buried in case files, my fingers stained with highlighter marks as I sifted through endless reports. At first, the details felt like noise—just a collection of random fires scattered around the city. But the more I looked, the more I started to see a pattern. The first fire had been at a small business owned by an elderly couple. The second one, a local community center. Each incident seemed isolated at first, but I realized there was more to this than I had thought. I was close to something. I didn't know what it was but I could feel it. I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair, and then my phone buzzed. It was a message from Nathaniel. "Meet me in the break room in 10." I didn’t even have to ask why. Nathaniel and I had been working together on the case, but I had started doing most of the legwork. He’d show up when necessary, but mostly, he just seemed… distracted. I didn’t understand it. He had the experience, he was the head of i

I had barely settled into my seat when a familiar voice made me freeze. “The report on last night’s fire.” Nathaniel. I looked up just as he dropped a folder on my desk without so much as a glance my way. I barely had time to respond before he was already walking off toward his own desk, sleeves rolled up, posture rigid. I exhaled sharply. Of course. No “good morning,” no instructions. Just another case dumped on me while he pretended I didn’t exist. But I wasn’t going to let him keep dismissing me. I grabbed the file and followed him to his desk. “Sir, what exactly am I looking for?” I asked, keeping my voice professional but firm. Nathaniel finally looked at me, his cold gray eyes scanning me like I was an annoying pop-up ad on his screen. “Patterns,” he said simply. “If you’re going to be working on this case, you should be able to find them yourself.” I clenched my jaw, refusing to let his indifference get to me. “And if I do find something?” “Then we’ll talk.” I stared

The sound of my keyboard filled the quiet space around me, a rhythmic tapping that matched the beat of my thoughts. Notes, timelines, theories—I had everything in front of me, yet the pieces still didn’t fit. The fires weren’t random. I could feel it. But without solid proof, it was just a gut feeling. I sighed, rubbing my temples. The newsroom bustled with activity, but at my little desk, it felt like I was working alone. Well, almost alone. I looked over at the other interns, I never really knew what they were up to. Nathaniel never really gave us what to do aside from a few reports to write here and there. If I hadn't been doing this fire case with him, I'd be almost jobless. I glanced toward Nathaniel’s office. He sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up, fingers lazily spinning a pen between them as he stared at his screen. His expression was unreadable, but I had been around him long enough to know when someone was just pretending to work. He had barely contributed to the investiga