My Front Page Story Novels & Stories

The article went live at 6:12 a.m. I was awake when the notification appeared. Featured. Front page. International edition. My photograph filled the opening spread. Natural Afro framed by city light. Eyes steady. Expression unreadable. The headline was simple. Expansion Is a Choice. I read every word slowly. Amara had written it with precision. She did not dramatize my past. She did not reduce me to struggle. She framed it as trajectory. As evolution. As intentional growth.

Greetings everyone! Thank you for clicking on this story and I hope you enjoy Mateo's and Callie's journey. This is my first story that I have ever written, so I apologize if there were mistakes or if it was too cringe. I tried as much as I could to edit this story. *A little bit about me:

“The timeline works for it to be his.” “By about three weeks.” “Three weeks is enough.” She sat down. Looked at the photo again. The laughing woman with her hand on her stomach in a park in summer heat. “She looks good,” she said, almost to herself. “That’s going to bother people.” “Bother people how?” “She was supposed to disappear and be miserable. She looks like she’s holding a meeting.” She picked up her own phone. “That’s actually a better story than the pregnancy. But the pregnancy is what sells it.” She put the phone down. “Sunday. Full spread, front page.”

I moved away from the window abruptly, my heels clicking loudly against the floor as I walked back to the desk with a newly found purpose. I picked my phone off the desk before I even sat down, going through my contact list and dialing a number I never thought I would. The line rang twice before ot was answered. “Good afternoon, this is the media house of….” “I have a story.” I cut the speaker off, wanting nothing but to get things out of the way. There was silence for a few seconds, before the tone at the other end changed. Now it was filled with interest rather than the initial professionalism.

Suit pouted childishly at Anderson, and continued, “Do we have a deal, Mr. Anderson?” Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive ten stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation.

Luna embarked on a journey to craft a powerful narrative that would resonate with her customers and convey the essence of her brand. To create her brand story, Luna delved into the origins of her business. She explored her personal journey, the challenges she faced, and the inspiration that drove her to start her own brand. Luna discovered that her passion for creativity, her love for nature, and her desire to make a positive impact on the world were at the core of her brand's identity. She weaved these elements together to form a captivating narrative that would engage her audience.

Dropping my bag at the door, I spotted their huge Chinese food picnic and joined them on the floor. They were streaming an old episode of Sex life. We ate silently and watched a little bit, but I was not even paying attention to the screen. I was too wound up, and finally blurted, “I’ve got my story.” “What?” They both stopped eating. I nodded. “I’ve got my first full story. It might be three pages, four—hell, five. Depending on how much information I end up with.” “Vicki!” they yelled in unison and came toward me.

If only they knew the consequence of what their story has done, then they’d take a long break from hunting for trivial stories, topics, and incidents. Grandview? That’s their name. It wasn’t until he mentioned it that I looked at the paper and saw it written in fancy letters at the top left-hand corner. Grandview, huh? That’s why they had to get a grand view of my face and ruin it in that photo following the story. “Can I talk to your boss?” I went straight to the point, sounding gruff and without emotion. His abrupt pause showed that took him by surprise. I guess he was probably expecting me to say “OK, thank you. I’ll do just that.”

The other girl regarded me with disdain, her words hitting me like a lightning bolt. "What front-page news? What’s going on?" I demanded an explanation, my brows furrowing in confusion. "Looks like she’s unaware that she's a headline sensation. If I were her, I'd be hiding in shame at home." Their words cast me as a home-wrecker—a label that felt unjust and cruel. I rushed to a newsstand and purchased the day's newspaper. The front page featured a story about me and Jethro, accompanied by a candid photo of us inside his car. Our faces were unmistakably clear, and there was no doubt about the photographer’s skill to have taken this shot.

"What's wrong?" "My media... the comments... I need to post something." He set his laptop aside and came around the desk. "Then say what's true. Say what you need them to hear. Some will believe. Some won't. But the people who matter will understand." He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "And your story deserves to be told by you. Not by news articles or court documents. By you." Taking a deep breath, I started typing again. This time, I didn't stop.