I walked through Kyl’s corridor, clutching the final draft like a fragile promise. My heartbeat roared in my ears. I’d written my truth, at the risk of every contract clause or worse, of his control. Standing before his door, I paused, hand trembling. After three long breaths, I pushed it open and walked inside.

He was behind his desk, eyes on me before I spoke. His suit was still impeccable, his frame calm. I placed the printed pages in front of him, palms sweaty, no preamble. I would ...