Page 86 of Velvet Betrayal

But I knew she wasn’t here for that. And so did she.

“So,” she said finally, eyes narrowing. “You called me. What’s the story?”

I glanced toward the crowd, then tipped my head toward the back hallway. “Let’s talk somewhere quieter.”

We slipped out of the noise and light, down a service corridor and into the stairwell—the one that always felt too cold, like the building remembered every secret it had to hold.

The door shut behind us with a heavy click.

Erica waited until the echo swallowed us. “You sure you want this on the record?”

“I’m sure.”

She clicked her recorder without breaking eye contact. “You could’ve called anyone. Why me?”

“Because you wrote the first piece on Mickey Russell’s trial. You got his wife’s story out when no one else would touch it.”

“That story nearly got me blacklisted.”

“And it made me trust you.”

Something in her expression softened—just slightly. “You’ve always had my vote, you know. Hero of the people and all that.”

“Not tonight.”

She gave a dry little laugh. “Let’s see.”

“I shot someone,” I said. The words came out flat, cold. Like I was still figuring out what they meant.

Her pen stilled. “Who?”

“Mickey Russell. He broke into my house. He was armed. There’s no record—yet. I didn’t file one. Not until now.”

Her eyes searched mine, calculating. “You’re giving me the exclusive?”

“Yes. But not until after the press conference. And not a single mention of my daughter.”

“I’ve never published a word you didn’t want published,” she said, voice smooth, almost fond. “Let’s have it.”

I took a breath. “After I shot him, he ran. Or at least, he left the premises. I haven’t seen him since.”

She nodded slowly. “And?”

“And the DOJ’s been running a case on organized crime. They used Russell as a confidential informant. He was their pipeline into the Callahan syndicate. You won’t get confirmation. Not yet. But it’s true.”

That got her. Real surprise, for once.

“The DOJ used a convicted domestic abuser as an informant…and it almost got the DA killed,” she said softly. “That’s nuclear.”

“And that’s not everything.”

Erica watched me a long moment. “What else?”

My heart was hammering. I felt the press of the stairwell walls, the chill in the concrete. “I’m getting divorced,” I said. “Julian and I are finalizing it. He stays Rosie’s legal father. And if you so much as print her name—”

“I won’t,” she said, quick and firm. “You have my word.”

I held her gaze another beat. “Good. Because if you touch my daughter, I’ll break your hands.”