Twelve Dates of Christmas

Do you believe in karma? I didn’t—until today. “You are fired!” “No, I’m not.” The panel of senior executives froze, their expressions a mix of disbelief and outrage. Jarred, my boss, didn’t even flinch. He’d grown immune to my habit of speaking my mind, though that didn’t stop him from trying to steamroll me. “In the past three months alone, we’ve faced twelve defamation suits. Five of those went to court, and one cost us hundreds of thousands in damages.” Jarred’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension. “And guess who was at the centre of every single one?” Me. “And yet,” I countered, arms crossed like a shield, “we’ve won every single one of those cases because I only write the truth. Every word I publish is backed by evidence. The only reason you had to pay damages in that one case was because you disclosed confidential information, not me. That’s on you.” Silence hung in the room. Their expressions shifted from shock to discomfort, but no one dared to refute me. “You can’t fire me.” I straightened, letting my words settle over the room. “I’m the Insider—the most popular writer on the site. I bring in millions of hits every month. Firing me would be your loss, not mine.” “The trademark for the Insider belongs to us,” Jarred said, his smirk infuriatingly calm. “We can replace you with someone more… sensible, and no one would even notice the difference.” My brows furrowed. Replace me? “I’m the creator of the ‘Behind the Curtain’ segment,” I said, crossing my arms. “You can’t just steal my segment and let someone else run it. I won’t let you.” “We’re not keeping that segment,” Jarred replied flatly. “We’ve got bigger plans for The Insider. Your segment might bring in good revenue, but it’s also a huge risk to our reputation.” If reputation was their concern, I knew exactly how to play my cards. “What if I told you I’m writing a piece so big it’ll skyrocket us and make us a world-class tabloid?” They exchanged uncertain glances. “What are you writing about?” Jarred asked, eyeing me sceptically. “I’ll only reveal the details if you reconsider my position here.” “How big are we talking?” he pressed. “It’s huge,” I said with a grin. “You won’t believe me when I tell you.” I could practically see the gears turning in his bald head. I just needed to push a little further to drive my point home. “No one else knows this. Not a single person, except the subject and me.” “Who’s your subject?” Jarred asked, leaning forward slightly. “Theodore Delacroix.” “The Theodore Delacroix? The self-made billionaire and tech genius, Theodore?” “The one and only.” The room went silent for a beat. “How reliable is your source?” I leaned back in my chair, my smile widening. “I’ve got the first-hand scoop straight from the subject himself.” “You’re telling me he’s feeding you the gossip?” Jarred’s tone was now a mix of disbelief and suspicion. “Pretty much.” They all stared at me, their eyes blank. I let the silence hang for a moment, then dropped the bomb. “Theodore Delacroix asked me to fake a romance for the cameras. My story will show the world the truth behind the lenses.”