ONE RICH REVENGE BY SOPHIA TRAVERS – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Sophia Travers
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Callie
I have three rules in life, and in business:
1. Never print a lie.
Sure, I might embellish a tad for dramatic effect, but I never lie.
Lies come back to bite you.
2. Always be able to look at yourself in the mirror the next morning.
That means no stories that could hurt someone. I don’t expose cheating
scandals if the people involved are nice people. I don’t write about people’s
kids. I have a moral code, and I like to think it puts me head and shoulders
above everyone else in this business.
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3. A little fun never hurt anyone.
I really try to live this one every day. I go to bed with a smile on my
face and hope in my heart for the morning. Even on my worst days, I ask
myself what I have to look forward to. Stupid? Maybe. But it’s worked for
me so far.
Until today.
I squint at my phone screen, hoping the number will change. It doesn’t.
$25,000. How can we still owe that much on the line of credit? We did not
need that printing contract. I told Dad to focus on digital distribution and
social media, but he thinks a newspaperman isn’t a newspaperman without
a physical paper. The big red deadline is just two weeks away. I could have
sworn we were making payments on time and the balance should have been
close to zero. Another thing I should have been monitoring instead of letting
my father “handle it.”
I put the phone down and pour another cup of coffee. It’s lukewarm.
Dad was up early today. He must have brewed it before the sun rose. It’s
just peeking over the horizon now, filtering in the east-facing living room
windows, weak and watery at this time of year. He’s probably in his office
right now, holed up with three or four papers, sucking down the daily news
and gossip like a drug.
“Dad,” I call.
“In here.” His voice comes from behind his office door. I weave through
the haphazardly organized and cozy living room, past the worn couch and
around stacks of books. There’s a huge sofa, a record player, and a big TV
—all the comforts of home—at least according to my father. But not a
feminine touch in sight. My mother’s never been in the picture, so it’s
always been just me and Dad against the world.
When I push open the office door, his typical chaos greets me—an
actual typewriter, our fat orange cat Samson, stacks of papers, a few
decorative paperweights. My father is settled in his leather armchair,
thumbing through the Post.
“Anything good in there today?” I lean against the doorframe.
He lifts his head. He might be slowing down, but his jovial-seeming
face hides a sharp mind and intelligent eyes. They never miss a thing.
“They printed your photo of Jonah.” He flips the paper so I can see one
of my photos from last week. In it, Jonah Crown, Manhattan’s favorite
billionaire, is striding across the street, coffee in hand, looking deadly and
handsome.
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