Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
In the heart of a dazzling traveling circus, journalist Ava Parker embarks on a daring undercover mission to uncover the truth about the enigmatic ringmaster, Dante Marcellus. Determined to write the exposé of her career, Ava immerses herself in the vibrant yet treacherous world of performers, finding herself drawn to the man she’s supposed to expose.
Can she unravel the mysteries surrounding Dante without losing herself in the process? Or will the circus’s secrets consume her, forcing her to choose between love and the truth?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Ava
The relentless hum of the newsroom wrapped around me like a second skin, the staccato of keyboards and the intermittent rings of phones creating a symphony of deadlines. I was right in the thick of it, perched at my cluttered desk, my fingers racing across the keyboard of my laptop. The screen glowed with the harsh light of a damning expose I'd been cultivating for weeks, one that would surely ruffle some prestigious feathers.
"Nice piece on the mayor, Ava," Sara chimed as she leaned over my desk, her voice slicing through my concentration like a knife. Her praise was expected, but today it was merely background noise. I managed a half-smile without glancing up, my gaze cemented to the digital words shaping beneath my hands.
"Thanks, Sara. Just wrapping up the follow-up." My response was automatic, my mind elsewhere, navigating through the maze of corruption I was about to expose.
Before Sara could further the small talk, the sharp, authoritative call of my name across the room sliced through the clamor. "Parker, my office. Now."
Mark's voice, gravelly and imbued with an urgency that wasn't to be ignored, had me snapping my laptop shut. I scooted my chair back and stood, smoothing the front of my blazer more out of habit than necessity. As I made my way to his office, I could feel the curious gazes of my colleagues boring into my back, their whispers already knitting together theories and rumors.
Mark's office was a testament to journalistic victories, the walls a montage of framed front pages, each story a battlefield. He stood by the door, his stance wide, his expression unreadable. The moment I stepped in, he shut the door with a decisive thud that hinted at the gravity of the conversation ahead.
"Sit," he commanded, pointing to the chair across from his cluttered desk. I obeyed, my heartbeat ticking up a notch. Mark wasn't a man of pleasantries, and every second in his office was a second spent on the frontline.
"I have something different for you," he began, his eyes pinning me with a seriousness that tightened my stomach. He reached for a thick file on his desk, its contents stuffed to the brim with newspaper clippings, police reports, and what I assumed were witness statements.
"Dante Marcellus and his traveling circus, The Misfit Cabaret," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper as if the mere mention of the name might draw unwanted attention. "There are whispers, Parker. Illicit activities, disappearances... the works. It's your job to dig up the truth."
I reached for the file, my fingers brushing against the cool paper. Flipping it open, I scanned the contents, each clip, each report searing images of shadowed tents and veiled secrets into my mind.
"Disappearances?" I asked, my voice steady despite the flicker of adrenaline that danced through my veins.
Mark nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "People go in, not all come out. And those who do, well, they aren't keen on talking. There’s something dark circling that circus, Ava. I need you to infiltrate, investigate, and expose."
Infiltrate. The word echoed in my mind, a challenge that was both thrilling and daunting. This was no ordinary assignment; it was an expedition into a world shrouded in spectacle and shadow. My pulse quickened at the thought, the rush of the chase, the hunger for truth making my decision for me.
"I'll get to the bottom of this," I said, the words firm and filled with the resolve that had earned me my place in this newsroom. "I’ll uncover whatever Marcellus is hiding."
Mark’s lips twitched into what could almost pass for a smile. "I know you will, Parker. Keep your wits about you. This circus... it’s not like anything you’ve tackled before."
As I left his office, the file under my arm felt like a torch—both a beacon and a weapon. I was about to step into the ring of a circus that played by its own rules, where every act was a question, and every performer potentially an answer. The story was there, waiting in the wings, shrouded in the allure of the unknown, and I was ready to drag it into the spotlight. The newsroom hummed with activity, the cacophony of ringing phones and fervent conversations forming a discordant backdrop to my newfound mission. My desk was a mere pit stop; I grabbed my notepad and phone, the tools of my trade, with a resolve that hardened with every step. The prospect of diving into a world shrouded in mystery quickened my pulse, fueling me with a potent mix of dread and excitement.
I walked a few blocks down the street in the direction of the sprawling library, an edifice that promised answers hidden in its silent walls. I approached the grand building, its facade a testament to the countless stories it harbored. Pushing open the heavy doors, the cool, musty air of the library enveloped me, my heels clicking on the marble floor in a steady, determined rhythm. The archives section awaited, a labyrinth of Chicago’s history and secrets.