My Front Page Story Novels & Stories

I pointed at the door, “GET OUT,” “Not until you listen,” he said, getting up. “No you listen,” I countered, “I found something. I know it is personal because it is Kioni but this is a good story. A story that no one else has. This could shift my career before I graduate. This story deserves to be told.” “Who else have you told?” he asked looking at me. “That is what you’re worried about? Who I have TOLD,” I shouted, “James, no paper, blog magazine or anyone has gotten a scoop about Kioni Turner being alive. As a journalist,”

“I told you, I won’t force you.” “But we must, I mean we can’t fake the-” “We’ll mark each other. It'll be enough to sustain our story. I know how you feel about it, but the mark will fade away eventually. We'll renew it once in a while.” By the end of this talk, he was only in his underwear. A small whimper escaped my mouth causing me to slap a hand over it. His laugh filled the room. Despite the turmoil of emotions that were ravaging my mind, I couldn’t deny the fact that his body was nothing less than perfect.

She nodded and then turned to me and said, “then why don’t you incorporate both into what you wish to show us?” Adding both together? That wasn’t an impossible request, but it wasn’t something I had quite prepared for. Still, I had to impress them so I quickly thought up something on the top of my head. Taking the centre of the stage, I took a quiet but deep breath in, as I had learned to do many times during practice. Then, with a clear voice, I spoke out some lines, “if there is a story to be told, why should I not be the one to tell it? Do we all not have that choice to tell our own tales?”

Anne needed me now more than ever. For the next several hours, I did everything I could to get the story taken down. I called in every favor I had, reached out to every contact in the media world. But it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with my bare hands. The story had already gone viral. Once the internet had it, there was no stopping it.

Lena scrunched up her nose a little, yeah she got all that but at least he should let her complete a sentence. "To make the headlines your story is going to need all of these, even if it's clear information that people need to know, at most it can only appear on the second page if it lacks all of these. Go and work on it more, come back tomorrow, same time." He waved in dismissal after giving his instructions. Lena wasn't at all disappointed that she would have to work more on her story, if anything she was pleased, at least she would get to see him again tomorrow.

"I need the fastest possible counter. Not a denial. A full account. My account, in my voice, was published before this piece got traction." "I can get you a platform in two hours," she said. "One that will reach more people than the Priest ever will." “Two hours," I said. "I will be ready." I hung up. Silas put coffee in front of me. “Ready?" he said. "I have been ready for this since the day I told Priya the real story for the first time," I said. "This is just someone else deciding when." I opened my laptop and started writing.

He looked like a king who was waiting for a servant to bring him a snack. One minute passed. Two. Three. At 10:50 AM, Cade nodded toward the phone. "Check it now." I grabbed the phone and hit the refresh button. The screen blinked. The headline was gone. I blinked and refreshed again. The City Daily website home page was different now. The top story was about a new park being built downtown. There was no mention of the Vance family. There was no mention of forty million dollars. I quickly typed my name into the search bar. No results found.

The feature was on the front page. Not a small piece. Not a sidebar. The front page, with a photograph she recognized immediately, taken at Chamberlain's event last Friday, caught from an angle that made her look uncertain and slightly lost in a room full of people who knew exactly where they were. The headline above it read: LEAD WIFE ABANDONS MARRIAGE — SOURCES CLOSE TO FAMILY SPEAK OUT. She read it standing at the boundary fence with the cold morning air pressing against her face and the feed mill running its morning shift in the middle distance.

he said, "most people who come into this office asking for favors at least pretend to be humble about it." "I'm not most people." "No. You're not." He picked up his coffee cup, stared into it like it held answers, then set it back down without drinking. "Alright," he said. Vanessa's heart stopped for half a second. "Alright?" she repeated. "Alright." Daniel nodded slowly. "You want a deal? Here's the deal. You bring me a story, a real story, not some manufactured controversy, not some puff piece with a misleading headline and I'll read it. If it's good, I'll consider it for the front page."

Later that evening, an unexpected development surfaced. A major international business publication requested an exclusive profile interview. They wanted my background. My story. Briar Glen. The small town. The early struggles. The rise. The narrative potential was enormous. So was the vulnerability. I sat alone in my office after everyone left, staring at the request. If I allowed the story to be told, it would humanize me. It would also expose parts of myself I had carefully contained. Adrian knocked softly before entering. “You are still here.”