Meet Scarlett Striker, a bold and quirky journalist for the Seattle Times. She's fun, confident, sassy, and just the right amount of weird. Scarlett is determined to rise to the top, no matter what it takes.
When her boss offers a golden opportunity...
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I burst into work, practically on the edge of being late, my heart pounding as I throw a glance at the clock. Just in time. Crisis averted, narrowly escaping the wrath of Linda, my boss, who could easily moonlight as a drill sergeant. Seriously, she's terrifying. One disapproving glare from her, and I'd be a puddle on the floor.
I flop into my chair, trying to shake off the adrenaline rush as I start clicking through my computer, hunting for a story that could actually make me look like I know what I'm doing. Seattle's a big city; there's got to be something juicy lurking in its shadows. Every city has its secrets, and I'm determined to be the one to uncover them.
Just as I'm about to resign myself to a morning of endless scrolling, inspiration strikes. Chris Bryant. I quickly type his name into the search bar, and the results flood my screen. One headline jumps out at me: 'Chris Bryant: Is He the Most Dateable and Hottest Bachelor in Seattle?' I almost snort at the audacity.
Wow, he must feel pretty good about himself. But, okay, I have to admit, the guy's got the looks to back it up. I skim the article, which is pretty much a fluff piece on his accomplishments, peppered with tidbits from people who claim to know him—mostly women, go figure. The funny thing is, there's nothing directly quoted from the man himself. It's all speculation and gossip.
Curious, I sift through the other articles that pop up about Chris Bryant. It's all essentially the same: no one has ever interviewed him. When he does make a public appearance, it's always on the news, but he never answers any questions. Just flashes a smile and a wink. Clever guy, keeping the mystery alive.
I sigh, the urge to snag an interview with him growing stronger. But before I can get too wrapped up in that fantasy, I switch gears and type in another name: James Wilson. Now there's a name that brings up a whole different vibe. He's another CEO, but his fame is built on his knack for disappearing into thin air. No one's ever seen him, and the only photo out there is from his childhood—if it's even legit.
I type in his name, and just like with Chris Bryant, a flood of articles fills my screen. One title immediately grabs my attention: Did We Finally Get a Shot of the Mysterious James Wilson? I click on the article and find a picture of a fit man in a black suit, but he's turned away from the camera. It's just a shot of his left side.
His hair is dark and impeccably cut, but he's covering his face with his left hand as he enters a hotel with a blonde woman. The more I dig, the clearer it becomes: this guy is the Houdini of CEOs. No interviews, no public appearances—just a phantom who's managed to stay invisible.
As I continue my search, I stumble upon a video featuring a striking woman who looks like she just stepped off a runway. She's got jet-black hair and an aura of power that's impossible to ignore. She's at the Met Gala, of course. I quickly plug in my headphones, making sure only I can hear the audio.
