The interview aired on Sunday evening and by Monday morning, Anna Lewis' phone wouldn't stop buzzing.
Producers, colleagues, even rival networks — all of them calling to congratulate her. Headlines called it "a masterclass in journalism." Twitter trended with her name and Ethan Garrison's side by side: #GarrisonLewis.
She tried not to look too closely at the comments. Some were professional praise; others were gossip, half-whispered speculation about the "undeniable chemistry" between them.
By noon, she'd silenced her phone.
But the email still came through, bright and efficient as always:
From: Maggie Montgomery
Subject: Bravo, darling.
Message:
You were exquisite. Lunch tomorrow at The Corinthia — my treat. We must talk about what comes next. x M
The Corinthia was all marble and mirrored light, a place that made even the most confident women walk a little taller. Maggie was already seated when Anna arrived, radiant in a cream suit, her phone placed carefully beside her champagne flute.
"Anna, sweetheart!" Maggie rose, air-kissing both cheeks. "The woman of the hour. Sit, sit. I've already ordered the oysters — they seemed celebratory."
"Thank you," Anna said, sliding into the chair opposite. "You didn't have to."
"Oh, nonsense. You've outdone yourself. That interview was electric — and you, my dear, looked sublime. I thought poor Ethan was going to melt under those lights."
Anna smiled politely. "He was a good subject. Very composed."
"Composed?" Maggie arched an eyebrow. "That's one word for it. The chemistry was… well, palpable." She took a sip of champagne, watching Anna over the rim of the glass.
"It was professional chemistry," Anna said evenly.
"Of course," Maggie said, voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Still, it doesn't hurt to have a bit of spark on screen. The audience eats that up."
The oysters arrived, glistening on a bed of ice. Maggie gestured grandly for Anna to take one. "You've hit a new level, darling. People are talking about you differently now. Bigger. Sharper. I've already had two sponsors mention your name this morning."
Anna raised an eyebrow. "Sponsors?"
"For interviews. Panels. Primetime. The world adores a woman with poise and intelligence — and right now, you're the hottest ticket in London. Which is why," she continued smoothly, "I want to help you capitalise on it."
"Maggie —"
"Don't look at me like that. You've earned this. I have contacts who can make your name international. Top-tier interviews — world leaders, innovators, the kind of people who shape headlines. You're ready for that."
Anna hesitated, twisting her napkin between her fingers. "It's flattering, but I'm already stretched thin. Between the show, the boys, Will —"
"Oh, darling." Maggie's smile was pure sympathy, though her eyes glinted. "You've always been a workhorse, haven't you? It's what makes you brilliant. You can handle busy — you thrive on it."
"That's not always a good thing."
"Come now," Maggie said, waving her hand. "This is your moment. The next step. Don't fade politely into comfort when you could be building a legacy."
Anna looked down at her plate. The word legacy lodged somewhere in her chest. She thought of her father, of every time he'd said she was "fine" when she'd wanted him to say she was excellent.
Maggie watched her carefully, sensing the hesitation, pressing the advantage.
"I could introduce you to the right people," she said softly. "Imagine a special series — Anna Lewis in Conversation. You'd be unstoppable."
The idea was intoxicating. Dangerous.
"Let me think about it," Anna said finally.
"Of course." Maggie smiled, but it was the smile of a cat who already knew the mouse would return. "No rush. Though, between us, a few of those 'right people' are asking for you already. I told them I'd see what I could do."
"I appreciate that."
"Oh, don't thank me yet," Maggie said lightly, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "Just promise you won't go all humble and self-sabotage the way good women sometimes do. You're better than that."
After lunch, they walked out together into the cool afternoon. Reporters sometimes lingered near the Corinthia's entrance, but today it was just the quiet bustle of traffic and the clink of cutlery from nearby cafés.
Maggie linked her arm through Anna's. "You know, I've always admired you," she said, voice suddenly softer. "You have that rare thing — presence without arrogance. That's why people like Ethan respond to you."
Anna glanced at her. "Ethan responds to logic, not flattery."
"Oh, don't be naïve, darling. He responds to you. Men like that — brilliant, solitary men — they're drawn to women who don't need them. It's irresistible."
"Maggie —"
"Relax," she said with a laugh. "I'm not suggesting anything untoward. Merely observing. Though if you ever did want to explore that chemistry, I'd wager he wouldn't resist."
Anna stopped walking. "That's not on the table."
Maggie raised both hands, mock surrender. "Of course. Just a thought. You know me — always stirring the pot."
"Yes," Anna said quietly. "I do."
They reached the curb, and Maggie waved down a cab. "Think about what I said, hm? Don't waste this momentum. I'll call you in a few days."
"Thank you," Anna said, though her voice was cool.
As the cab pulled away, Anna stood for a moment, the city swirling around her. She felt both flattered and uneasy — as if she'd just shaken hands with opportunity and been left with a faint trace of oil on her skin.
That evening, home felt smaller.
Will was in the kitchen, cooking chicken and laughing with the boys. Anna leaned against the doorway, watching them. Ben was teasing Tom about his haircut; Tom was pretending not to care. Will glanced over and smiled.
"Hey, stranger," he said. "You're home early."
"Early-ish." She walked in, kissed his cheek and took a sip of wine from his glass. "How was your day?"
"Chaotic. Year elevens are savages."
She laughed and for a moment the simplicity of it all soothed her. The domestic noise, the clatter, the smell of dinner — it grounded her in a way no studio ever could.
But then her phone buzzed.
Maggie Montgomery:
Just spoke to a contact at the Global Affairs Network. They want to discuss a six-part interview special. Told them you'd be interested.
Anna stared at the message, heart quickening.
"Everything okay?" Will asked, chopping onions.
"Work," she said automatically. "Just… a new opportunity."
"Good one?"
"I don't know yet."
She excused herself and went upstairs. She sat on the edge of the bed. The room was dim, the air faintly scented with laundry soap and rain from the open window.
Her phone buzzed again — another message, this one from Ethan Garrison:
Good evening, Anna. Just read an article online calling our interview 'the best in years.' Congratulations — you earned it.
She smiled faintly, typing back before she could think too much:
Thank you. You made it easy.
A pause, then his reply:
You make everything look easy.
Her heart gave that same treacherous jolt it always did when he appeared in her thoughts. She set the phone down, staring at the wall.
Downstairs, she could hear Will laughing with the boys — a steady, happy sound. And for the first time, she wondered what "the next step" might really cost her.