Chapter 444 - Roxie Jones

Chapter 444: Chapter 444 - Roxie Jones

New York City, Ten Years Later

"Have you heard?"

Roxie looked up from the script she was reviewing to find Laurain standing beside her desk with two cups of coffee.

"Heard what?"

Laurain handed her one before pulling an empty chair closer.

"Apparently, Mr. Caldwell has a mistress."

Roxie nearly spilled her coffee.

"What?"

Laurain laughed at her reaction, clearly pleased that she’d managed to get her attention.

"Someone from the executive floor heard he’s been seeing a woman who works here."

Roxie stared at her for a moment before laughing.

"Harrison Caldwell? Our Harrison Caldwell?"

"How many Caldwells do you think we have in this building?"

"Laurain, the man has been married for thirty years."

"Thirty-two, actually."

"That makes it even more ridiculous."

Laurain shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. "I’m just telling you what I heard."

Roxie shook her head, still smiling.

She should have expected something like this from Laurain Bennett, the network’s senior news producer and one of the first people who had befriended her when she joined the company.

At thirty-four, Laurain was a tall, slender woman with shoulder-length auburn hair, sharp green eyes, and an impressive ability to know everyone’s business.

Roxie had once joked that Laurain could probably find out what the president had eaten for breakfast before the White House released an official statement.

Laurain had taken it as a compliment.

They’d known each other for almost six years. Back when Roxie was still a junior reporter, Laurain had been the producer assigned to supervise her first live television appearance.

She’d also been the one screaming into Roxie’s earpiece when Roxie accidentally missed her cue.

They’d become friends sometime between late-night editing sessions, coffee breaks, and countless arguments over news scripts.

"Seriously, Laurain. Have you met his wife? He practically worships that woman."

"Men can love their wives and still cheat."

"Wow. That’s a depressing way to start my afternoon."

"I’m being realistic."

"You’re being nosy."

"That too."

Roxie laughed and returned her attention to the script on her computer.

She had a difficult time imagining Harrison Caldwell having an affair.

At fifty-eight, Harrison was the chairman and CEO of Crestline Media Group, the parent company of Crestline News Network, where Roxie had spent nearly six years building her career.

He was a tall, distinguished man with neatly combed silver hair, dark eyes, and a preference for expensive tailored suits.

Despite his position, he’d always been approachable. He remembered employees’ birthdays, attended company celebrations, and occasionally visited the newsroom just to see how everyone was doing.

He’d also taken a particular interest in Roxie’s career when she was still a junior reporter.

When a weekend anchor position opened, Harrison had encouraged her to audition despite her insistence that she wasn’t ready.

He’d practically pushed her into the audition room.

And when she eventually got the position, he’d sent flowers to her house with a handwritten note congratulating her.

Over the years, Roxie had come to regard him almost like a father.

Which was why Laurain’s latest gossip sounded particularly ridiculous.

If people thought he had a mistress, she’d probably be the first one they’d point to. The thought made her shudder. But there had been rumors like that over the years, and nothing ever stuck.

Harrison also talked about his wife constantly.

During their last company dinner, he’d spent nearly twenty minutes showing everyone photographs from their anniversary trip to Greece. He’d even complained that his wife had made him take so many pictures that he barely got to enjoy the vacation.

Roxie remembered teasing him about it.

He’d laughed and told her that after thirty years of marriage, a man learned to pick his battles.

"So who’s this mysterious woman?" Roxie asked, reaching for the printed notes beside her keyboard.

Laurain leaned forward, lowering her voice. "That’s the interesting part. Nobody knows."

"Then how did anyone find out?"

"Someone supposedly saw him leaving a hotel with a woman last Friday."

"A hotel?"

"Mhm."

"Which hotel?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

Roxie gave her a look.

"What?"

"You’re telling me someone saw our CEO leaving an unidentified hotel with an unidentified woman, and somehow everyone has decided he’s having an affair?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous."

"Because it is ridiculous."

Laurain laughed.

"Fine. Forget I said anything."

"Gladly."

Although knowing Laurain, she’d probably have three new versions of the story before the end of the day.

Roxie turned back to her computer and scrolled through the rundown for that evening’s broadcast.

Their lead story concerned a controversial housing development proposal in Brooklyn, followed by an update on the city’s public transportation budget. There was also a developing investigation into a construction company accused of violating several workplace safety regulations.

She frowned at the third segment.

"Did Mark send the revised figures?"

Laurain leaned over to look at her screen.

"About the construction investigation?"

"Yeah. These are still yesterday’s numbers."

"He said he’d have them by three."

Roxie glanced at the time.

It was already twenty minutes past three.

"Wonderful."

She reached for her phone and sent Mark another message.

Laurain watched her with an amused expression.

"What?" Roxie asked.

"Nothing. Just wondering if you ever get tired."

"Of what?"

"Working."

Roxie laughed.

"Unfortunately, the news doesn’t stop happening just because I want a vacation. Sometimes I wonder if I chose the wrong job."

Laurain laughed. "You could take one, you know. An actual vacation."

"I took one last month."

"Three days in Boston for a conference hardly counts."

"I went sightseeing."

"You visited a museum between interviews."

"That still counts."

Laurain shook her head.

"You’re impossible."

"Thank you."

"Seriously, Roxie. Sometimes I wonder why you work so hard."

Roxie raised an eyebrow.

"Because I like my job?"

"I know. I just mean you could afford to take things easier."

That was true.

Money hadn’t been a problem since her dad established a trust fund for her, ensuring she’d have financial security regardless of the career she eventually chose.

She’d been fortunate enough to finish college without worrying about tuition fees or living expenses, things she’d never imagined having when she was younger.

"Well, someone has to keep you employed," she told Laurain.

"Oh, please. I could get another job tomorrow."

"With that attitude?"

"With these heels."

Roxie burst out laughing.

"God, you’re ridiculous."

Laurain grinned before glancing at the photograph sitting beside Roxie’s monitor.

It showed Roxie, Angela, and Karen standing together on the terrace of their house, all three laughing at something outside the frame.

"Speaking of vacations, are your roommates still planning that trip to Italy for the wedding?"

"Angela mentioned it this morning."

"You’re going?"

"I haven’t decided."

"Why?"

"Work."

Laurain rolled her eyes.

"Of course."

Roxie smiled and picked up her coffee.

Angela and Karen had been trying to convince her to take more time off for weeks.

The three had been living together since their first year of college, although calling them roommates hardly seemed appropriate anymore.

At eighteen, they’d decided that living together would be fun. Their families had been supportive, and they’d rented a spacious house in a quiet New York neighborhood.

Three years ago, they’d moved into a larger townhouse in Brooklyn.

Angela had insisted on a proper kitchen because she enjoyed baking, Karen wanted a large walk-in closet, and Roxie had demanded a room with plenty of natural light and enough space for her books.

They’d found a place that satisfied all three of them.

And although each could easily afford to live independently, none had seriously considered moving out.

Roxie had grown accustomed to hearing Angela moving around the kitchen in the morning and Karen complaining about something before she’d even finished breakfast.

She liked having someone to talk to when she came home late. She liked the spontaneous dinners, movie nights, and ridiculous arguments over whose turn it was to choose what they watched.

After spending almost a decade together, Roxie couldn’t imagine living apart from them.

Laurain shook her head.

"You’re twenty-eight, Roxie."

Roxie lifted her brow at her. "Thank you for the unnecessary blow to my confidence."

Laurain giggled. "You’re also one of the network’s most recognizable anchors."

"You’re making me sound old."

"You’re on billboards."

"One billboard. And they chose a terrible picture."

"It was a beautiful picture."

Roxie squinted her eyes and touched her forehead. "My forehead looked enormous."

Laurain burst out laughing. "You need a boyfriend."

Roxie grinned and took another sip of her coffee, deciding the comment wasn’t worth answering.

Her eyes wandered toward the large glass wall separating the newsroom from the main corridor.

Beyond it, the company logo was mounted against a polished gray wall.

CRESTLINE NEWS NETWORK

The familiar silver lettering stood beneath a blue circular emblem, illuminated by the overhead lights.

A boyfriend? With how busy she was these days, she could barely find time for herself. Her career was finally going somewhere, and she was happy with the life she’d built. She wasn’t particularly interested in changing it.

Work is her life now and that logo is enough for her busy schedule.

She remembered the first time she’d seen that logo.

She’d been twenty-two, standing in the lobby with a folder containing her résumé, wearing a carefully chosen cream blazer that Angela had helped her pick out the previous evening.

Karen had insisted on doing her makeup.

Roxie had spent almost thirty minutes arguing with both of them because they kept treating her first job interview like she was preparing for a beauty pageant.

She’d arrived early anyway, determined to make a good impression.

Back then, Crestline had seemed impossibly prestigious.

The network had national broadcasts, experienced journalists, and correspondents stationed across the country. Its evening programs regularly attracted millions of viewers.

Roxie remembered looking at the enormous photographs of the network’s anchors displayed along the lobby walls and wondering whether she’d ever become as accomplished as them.

Six years later, her own photograph was hanging among them.

She smiled faintly.

Her first live report had been outside a courthouse in freezing rain. She’d been so nervous that she nearly forgot the name of the person she was reporting about.

Karen still had the recording.

She played it every year on Roxie’s birthday.

Roxie had improved considerably since then.

There had been countless reports, difficult interviews, and even a journalism award along the way.

Then came the weekend broadcasts, followed by the morning news.

Two years ago, she’d been offered the evening anchor position alongside Nathan Mercer, one of the network’s most established journalists.

She’d spent an entire night staring at the contract before finally signing it.

And now, at twenty-eight, she had her own dressing room, a producer who regularly threatened to make the coffee healthier, and strangers occasionally stopping her on the street to ask whether she was Roxie Jones.

Roxie Jones.

She really made a name for herself.

"Roxie?"

She blinked and looked at Laurain.

"Sorry. What?"

"Nathan’s looking for you."

"Oh."

Roxie followed her gaze toward the glass doors of the production office.

Nathan Mercer stood beside one of their producers, gesturing toward the script in his hand.

Even from across the newsroom, Roxie could tell he was arguing about something.

"Probably wants to change the opening again," she muttered before waving. "He’s a control freak who wants everything perfect."

"He’s been arguing with production for twenty minutes."

"About what?"

"The housing story."

Roxie groaned.

"Please tell me he isn’t trying to squeeze the mayor’s entire statement into the introduction."

Laurain smiled.

"Actually..."

"Oh, for God’s sake."

Roxie pushed her chair back and grabbed her notes.

They had less than three hours before the evening broadcast, and their lead story still needed work.

She had barely taken two steps when her phone vibrated against the desk.

"Roxie, your phone," Laurain called.

Roxie turned back and picked it up.

A message had appeared on the screen.

Evelyn Parker, Executive Assistant

Good afternoon, Ms. Jones. Mr. Caldwell would like to see you in his office after tonight’s broadcast. Please let me know if you’ll be available.

Roxie frowned slightly.

Harrison rarely scheduled meetings with her through his assistant. Whenever he wanted to discuss something, he usually called her directly or stopped by the newsroom.

Maybe he wanted to talk about one of her upcoming reports.

She quickly typed a reply confirming she’d be available.

"Everything okay?" Laurain asked.

"Yeah. Mr. Caldwell wants to see me after the broadcast."

Laurain raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Roxie gave her a warning look.

"Don’t even start."

"I didn’t say anything."

"You were thinking it."

Laurain laughed.

Roxie slipped her phone into her pocket and headed toward Nathan.

Whatever Harrison wanted could wait until after the show.

Besides, knowing him, it was probably something about her career.

And she’d never had a reason to worry about meeting with him before.