"I hate you." My voice cracks as I tell him.
His feet stop at the door.
I clutch the bedsheet tightly around my chest as he turns around with an emotionless face.
"Then there will be a lot of hate fucking between us." A smirk curve his lips as his g...
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"Get me the proof he said about those underground fights, in written and signed by him. Or I will take you down with me, brutally."
The line goes silent and I sit there with my heart throbbing in my mouth. I couldn't blink, or breathe, or swallow the saliva that had been frozen in my throat since I saw her sixteen missed calls.
This has to be a misunderstanding!
Why would he sue the publication when they printed exactly what he had disclosed? Unless there has been a miscommunication.
My brain rattles from the left to right compartment of my brain while my veins thrum of unknown fear. I already signed an exclusive contract with Pegasus Publications and now my book is stuck with them under piles of legal cases.
"Oh God! What should I do?" I wait in silence like the heavens will answer to me in a booming voice from above, which obviously didn't happen.
I thought I exorcised bad luck from my life, but like an uno reverse card, shits keep on coming back to me at a speed I can't even detect its direction.
"Emara? Are you coming or not?" Ethan yells from outside as he waits for me on his rumbling bike. My brain runs slow and suddenly picks up the pace as I remember about my written submission and presentation of my project.
Fuck. Shit. Fuck-shit!
I pick my bag and my nervous-as-lizard body to leave for the college, for the sake of good grades. The presentation blankly passed above everybody's head and the professor asked me to prepare again, next week.
Whole day, I couldn't concentrate on my lectures as my mind kept on reaching out for my phone, reading updates of the fucked up situation caused by a single interview.
The whole internet is thrashing over the article. People are taking their I-was-born-for-this-moment frustration out on twitter, scowling at the blog and calling Carina a scandalmongering bitch.
Now I am glad she didn't print my name.
By four in the evening, new articles publish on the internet, targeting Pegasus Publication for character assassination of the tech-tycoon.
I reach home with a panic attack. Sweat runs fresh from my forehead as I scroll through the hot topic of the day.
'Pegasus Publication charged with Three Hundred Thousand Dollars by HighBar System & Co. for printing wrong information through the means of their renowned magazine, InLook.'
I am so dead. Dead like dinosaurs's eggs.
In no time, the blame will slide on my head and soon these hungry tweets will turn into flesh-eating vultures, targeting my little ass which didn't even fully learned sarcasm.
My phone vibrates on the bed, and I glance down at the messages popping on the screen.
'Emara' 'I am losing patience' 'Did you talk to him?'
