Ms. Vargas sat in her office long after everyone else had gone home.
The suspension notice sat on her desk, half-finished. The cursor blinked on her computer screen. Outside, the city lights glittered against the November dark.
She should have been writing. Making the decision. Protecting the institution like Richard and Laura had said.
Instead, she was furious.
Actually, genuinely furious in a way she hadn't been in years.
Her phone buzzed. Another text from Delaney:
Ms. Vargas stared at the message.
She typed back:
Then she set her phone down and pressed her palms against her eyes.
She'd been managing people for fifteen years. Had navigated office politics, budget cuts, editorial disagreements, harassment complaints, you name it. She'd learned to stay calm. Professional. Detached.
But this—
This was different.
This was a journalist she'd believed in, trusted, given resources and freedom to, turning that trust into something she couldn't even fully see yet but knew was wrong.
And Ms. Vargas had let it happen.
And now a young man was missing and she was being pressured by corporate legal and Delaney was still out there hunting The Fighter like nothing was wrong.
Ms. Vargas stood abruptly. Walked to the window. Looked out at the city.
Her reflection stared back at her from the dark window. Hijab perfectly arranged. Suit immaculate. Expression controlled.
Always controlled.
Even now.
She thought about her mother. About the lessons she'd learned growing up—about justice, about accountability, about standing up when something was wrong even when it was hard.
Ms. Vargas had been doing nothing.
But really, she'd been doing nothing.
And a young man was missing because of it.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, an email from HR forwarding concerns.
Ms. Vargas felt ice in her stomach.
She closed the email. Opened Rowan's personnel file.
No two weeks notice. No forwarding address. No explanation.
Just... gone.
She pulled up the security footage logs Richard had mentioned. The gaps were there—thirty minutes missing from the parking garage cameras on the morning Rowan supposedly resigned. Just thirty minutes. Just long enough.
Ms. Vargas sat back in her chair.
She didn't know what Delaney had done. Didn't have proof. Didn't have witnesses or confession or anything concrete enough to take to the police.
But she knew.
Her phone buzzed. Text from her sister:
Ms. Vargas looked at the time. She'd already missed the prayer window.
She stood. Started gathering her things. Then stopped.
No.
Not yet.
She sat back down and opened a new document. Started typing.
The words came easier than she expected. Clearer.
She didn't know about a team. Didn't know the full extent of what Delaney had been doing. But she knew enough.
That was enough.
Vague enough to protect the company. Specific enough to be defensible.
She saved the document. Didn't send it yet. Not until after tomorrow's meeting.
Then she'd end this.
Ms. Vargas gathered her things, turned off her office light, and left.
The newsroom was dark and empty. Quiet in a way that felt wrong.
Somewhere in this building, Delaney was probably still working. Still documenting. Still convinced she was doing something righteous.
And somewhere out there, Rowan Voss was either hiding or—
Ms. Vargas stopped that thought. Pulled out her phone. Made the call she should have made weeks ago.
Ms. Vargas looked back at the dark newsroom. At the building she'd worked in for fifteen years. At the institution she'd tried so hard to protect.
She gave them Rowan's information. The timeline. The security gaps. Everything she had.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
And it was more than she'd done while he was still here to be saved.
When she hung up, Ms. Vargas stood in the empty parking garage—not the level where Rowan's car had been, but close enough—and let herself feel the full weight of what she'd just set in motion.
The anger was still there. But underneath it now, something colder.
She got in her car. Drove home. Made wudu. Prayed Isha even though she'd missed Maghrib.
And tomorrow, she would fire Delaney Schulz.
Not because corporate told her to.
Not because the institution needed protecting.
Because it was right.
And because she'd failed Rowan by not doing it sooner.