The morning after our three-month anniversary celebration, I’m humming happily to myself as I ride the elevator up to the newsroom.

I guess it’s a testament to how happy and preoccupied I am with thoughts of Mason that I don’t notice a few people are staring strangely at me as I make my way over to makeup. The first indication I have that things aren’t quite right is when Mindy, the woman who does my hair, makes a point of looking down at the hand with my engagement ring, then snorts and rolls her eyes.

“What’s wrong with Mindy?” I ask Sheri as she’s applying my foundation. “It’s not just my imagination, right? She did just kind of snort at me?”

But Sheri just shakes her head. “I’m staying out of it,” she says obstinately. “I need this job, and I gotta get along with everybody.”

I have no idea what she means by that, so I just decide to let it go. Sheri finishes up my makeup in silence. A few minutes later, another hair stylist who isn’t Mindy comes over to do my hair. I’m left to wonder what’s going on as I patiently let her work and then go down to get mic’ed up.

But instead of going on for my slot, Ethan’s assistant comes down and tells me he needs to see me in his office, right away. I try to explain that I’m about to go on, but Thomas is adamant. “He says right now,” he insists, his eyes not quite meeting mine. Heaving a sigh, I pull off my mic and go downstairs to see what he wants.

“Anna,” Ethan says in an acid voice when I stick my head in. “Come in and shut the door. Please.”

I do as he says. There’s a definite chill in the room. Ethan’s been acting uber-friendly to me lately, and the difference is stark. I sit down across from him and wait. Something is stopping me from speaking, but I don’t know quite what it is.

“Your little stunt got you quite a big reward, in the short term,” Ethan bites out, leaning back in his chair. He steeples his fingers together and gives me a shrewd look. “And it almost cost the station quite a lot.”

“What?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. But somewhere in the back of my mind, alarm bells are starting to sound.

“You’ve embarrassed the station, Anna. And you tricked me into giving you a higher profile position than you had, by riding on the coattails of your so-called fiancé.” Ethan’s upper lip curls in distaste. “Thankfully, Mackenzie was able to help us get ahead of the story before it came out somewhere else first.”

Oh, my God. “Ethan, I…”

“Stop, Anna,” he interrupts me. His voice is sharp and angry. “There’s nothing you can say to make this better.” He turns away from me. “We’ll see how this all shakes out in the wash, but your future at WSPR is not looking good. If I were you, I’d be exploring other options.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Ethan’s gone back to looking at his computer screen and begins to type. Clearly, I’m being dismissed.

As I stand up, I’m shaking. I walk out of his office, trying to muster as much dignity as I can in order to face the people outside in the newsroom. A couple of them stare at me curiously, but no one talks to me. In a horrible, surreal haze, I go to my desk and open up my computer. The home screen on my web browser is the station’s home page, of course. And staring right at me, the first thing I see, tells me everything I need to know about why I’m being suspended.

“We did a good job on the story, I think,” Mackenzie’s voice says behind me. “Considering how quickly we had to pull it all together.”

I whirl around in my seat to face her. “How could you?” I hiss, as my eyes fill with angry tears.

Mackenzie laughs, an unpleasant sound that raises my hackles. “How could I not?” she challenges. The corners of her lips rise in a cynical smirk. “You dropped a story right into my lap, Anna. A great story. One that could tar and feather this station, or put us in the spotlight, depending on how it was handled. It’s not my fault you were stupid enough not to realize it.”

“It would never have gone public, except for you,” I cry. “I trusted you!”

“That’s not my fault, Anna. You know, you’re not a bad journalist, actually. But you have shit instincts.” She shakes her head pityingly.

“So, is this part of your Year of Yes?” I spit out. “I didn’t know that included saying yes to betraying things your friends told you in confidence!”

But Mackenzie only rolls her eyes at me. “Anna, you’ve got one hell of a lot to learn if you’re going to succeed in this business.” She’s addressing me with a patient but condescending tone, like I’m a little child. “If you don’t want something to get out, then you don’t tell anyone about it. Especially not a reporter.” She gives me a dry smile. “And especially not a reporter who’s as willing as I am to do what it takes to get ahead.” She glances up at the clock on the wall. “Oops! On that note, excuse me. I have to get down to the set,” she says pointedly. “Ethan’s asked me to take over your slot for the time being.”

I’m so furious I can only watch in stunned silence as she turns on her high, fuck-me heels and saunters toward the elevators.

I thought Mackenzie was my friend, my brain keeps repeating over and over.

I guess I really am an idiot.

I know that lately, I’ve been rising quickly at the station. More quickly than she has. And I know why that is, of course. It’s not because of my talent, though I think I have some. It’s not for any other reason except that I’m Mason’s fiancée.

I was willing to do anything it took to get ahead. Which is why I agreed to the contract with him.

And now, I’ve been outed. And ousted. By someone who was willing to sink even lower than I was.

I almost laugh at the sick justice of it all. In a twisted way, it serves me right.

But I’m not the only one this is going to hurt.

Oh my God.

I have to call Mason. Before he finds out on his own.

My hands are trembling as grab my bag from my desk drawer and fumble it open.

But just as I spy my phone in the bottom of my purse and reach for it, it starts to ring.

I don’t even need to look at the screen to know who it is.

“Hello, Mason,” I say shakily, a rogue tear spilling down my cheek. “I was… just going to call you.”