The newsroom greeted her with silence. Desks stood empty, the whispers of colleagues gone. Only one office still burned with light. Peter Kluger's office.
Rachel entered without knocking. Her eyes burned with contempt and defiance. She still carried herself like the "queen of the press," even as her crown already lay in the dirt.
"You betrayed me," she spat from the doorway. "That whole show… you knew exactly how it would end. And yet you made me the scapegoat."
Kluger slowly raised his eyes from the papers. Not a single muscle moved on his face.
"Rachel," he said quietly, almost without emotion. "You overestimate your importance."
She stepped closer, her voice trembling with fury.
"Overestimate? You were the one who ordered me to unleash the crowd on Angelo Nobell! You told me to paint him as a monster! And now you dump all the blame on me?"
"You're mistaken," Kluger cut her off, steel ringing in his words. "You were always a pawn. A loud, flashy pawn — but still a pawn."
Her fists clenched.
"So that's it? You throw me away the moment I become inconvenient?"
Kluger rose to his feet. His cold gaze burned straight through her.
"A man stronger than me applied pressure. If I didn't fire you — I would be dead."
Rachel paled. For the first time, fear flickered in her eyes.
"Who…?"
Kluger smirked faintly.
"You love asking questions too much. That is why you're being erased."
He brushed past her and threw the door wide open.
"Leave. You are no longer part of this game."
Her breath caught. For the last time she looked at him — and in his eyes she saw only emptiness. No pity. No anger. Just the cold indifference of a man saving his own skin.
The queen of the press had been utterly dethroned.