The guard looked down, his expression apologetic but firm. "I can't, Mrs. Mason. These reporters were personally invited by Mr. Mason. We have no authority to remove them."
My grip went slack.
*That's impossible.* Joel was buried in meetings—he wouldn't do something so petty, so dangerous.
But the next second, every lens turned in unison toward the stretcher where my unconscious child lay.
"Mr. Mason's orders are clear. Reporter Henson needs fresh material."
——
"She almost missed the scoop. Good thing the boss arranged enough bodies; we've got the crash site covered from every angle. No blind spots."
A few feet away, Joel scrolled through the photos on his phone, his thumb swiping with critical satisfaction.
"Good. Naomi is up for a promotion; she needs a headline that bleeds."
The reporter next to him gauged Joel's expression carefully. "Mr. Mason, your wife has been keeping a low profile lately. If she stays this quiet, Reporter Henson won't have anything to write about."
Joel's voice cut through the sterile hospital air like a blade.
"If she's too quiet, I'll arrange some trouble for her. Just like today's accident."