Emily's Publishing

Maya Hernandez, 42, glared at the phone in her hand, her thumb stilled over the "Send" icon. The draft email to her boss felt like a ticking bomb in her hands. Outside her apartment window, sheets of rain pounded against the glass, reflecting the stormy emotions swirling inside her. For months, Maya had watched her colleague, Ethan manipulate data and forge signatures in order to inflate his sales numbers. At first, she'd convinced herself it wasn't her problem. But as Ethan's lies grew bolder and the company's reputation teetered on the edge, the weight of her silence became unbearable. "You okay, mom?" Zoe's voice startled Maya. Her 15-year-old daughter stood in the doorway, concern etched on her face. Maya forced a smile. "Just work stuff, honey. Nothing to worry about." Zoe rolled her eyes the way only teenagers can. "You've been staring at your phone for like, an hour. Either send the text or don't." As Zoe retrea...

Her office walls had held thank-you cards for seventeen years, but it was the empty space that caught her eye that morning-the gap where Travis Morrison's graduation photo should have been. Some spaces, she'd learned, spoke louder than words. Her phone buzzed-another text from Diana. "Did you see the news? He's getting early release. Good behavior." Her sister's digital eye-roll was almost visible between the lines. Outside, the rain pattered softly against the spring rains' tapping upon her window-a soft counterpoint to her quickening pulse. Travis Morrison. The student who'd near enough ended her career with his false accusations, just because she'd caught him dealing in pills. Now he'd be out, three years early. A knock broke into her reverie. Michael Torres stood in her doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets. New student, troubled record – the kind of kid she usually knew how to help. But lately, every troubled teen reminded her of Travi...