The door swung open to the sight of a petite brunette leaning casually against the door frame. Mitchum let his eyes travel up and down the site before him. She was wrapped in a black trench coat that ended mid-thigh, the smooth, olive skin extending out from beneath it and ending in a pair of gold heels.

"Hey," she greeted, an impish smile upon her face. She pushed herself up off the wall and made her way into the apartment without waiting for an invitation.

"Please, come in," Mitchum murmured with a roll of his eyes, but his annoyance at her impertinence was quickly erased by the view of her ass swaying as she made her way to the wet bar to pour herself a drink. She shucked her jacket on the way, tossing it over the arm of the vintage, original Eames lounge chair as she went.

"Scotch?" she offered with a glance over her shoulder. Not many women could get away with offering him his own liquor. But he could think of several things she could give him that would make him let it slide. The first, of course, being information.

After a moment of enjoying the view, he followed her to the bar until he was right behind her, the swell of her deliciously round ass pressing against him. He reached around and grabbed the bottle from her hand. "You have to earn the good stuff," he whispered into her ear.

She let out a breathy chuckle as she slipped out from between him and the bar, turning to face him. "I've earned it," she gave him a wry smile, laying a flirty hand on his shoulder, "but if you're a good boy, I'd be more than willing to earn it again."

He was going to enjoy that. But Mitchum was a business man and business always came before pleasure. "What have you found out?" he asked.

She shrugged, then made her way over to the sitting area and plopped down on the love seat, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable. "Your ex is a chatty one," she admitted. "Too chatty," she added with a roll of her eyes. "It's amazing how much that girl can talk without saying a thing."

Mitchum was well aware of Rory's legendary ability to babble incessantly and go on long, meaningless rants. There was a time when he'd actually found it endearing, god help him, but that time was past. "So you've got nothing?" he surmised with annoyance.

"Please," she scoffed. "Do I look like the kind of girl who doesn't deliver?"

"Well then?" he prodded.

"What, you're just going to stand there?" She pouted her full, plump lips at him. "Make me sit here all by my lonesome?" she asked as she patted the seat beside her. Mitchum just stood where he was, holding her gaze deliberately.

"Fine," she harrumphed, sounding more than a little put out that she couldn't flirt her way into whatever it was she was after. "Your girl is losing it, so if that's the effect you were going for, kudos." It was, indeed, the effect he had been going for. "She had an epic freak out about that picture in the paper and mooned the entire locker room. It was actually quite entertaining." She chuckled a little at that. Mitchum pushed down the wisp of annoyance he felt at her enjoyment; this wasn't supposed to be fun, it was a job. But, that being said, it did in fact appear that she was doing her job, so, he finished pouring the Scotch and brought a glass over to her.

Her lips curled up into a sly smile as she took the tumbler full of amber liquid. "That's more like it," she approved as he took the seat beside her. "Much more…civil."

"Did she say anything about Logan?"

"Logan, Logan, Logan…" Rebecca droned as she took a sip of her Scotch. "You've got one really fucked up familial situation, you know that?"

"Thanks," he deadpanned, "but if I wanted to be psychoalayzed I'd get some expensive shrink with an over-priced degree to do it."

"Your prerogative," she shrugged, pulling her legs up underneath her on the couch and snuggling a little closer. "Lucky for you, I myself am plagued with Daddy issues, so I tend to find emotionally unavailable men who make terrible fathers kind of hot."

"You can put some pig tails in and let me spank you later," Mitchum assured her. "Now, what did she say?"

Rebecca huffed and rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine, you really want to know?"

"No, I just asked for the casual conversation."

"Whatever. She's totally into him but they're not together. They may be love fools but they're not idiots."

Mitchum scoffed. What Rory saw in his degenerate son was beyond him. There was no way her feelings for him were real. She just needed someone to attach herself to to replace him. He was a poor man's Mitchum—literally at this point, and Mitchum intended to make sure he stayed that way.

"They kissed," he reminded her.

Rebecca shrugged. "One time slip up. They've been keeping their distance since then."

"Even at work?"

"She said she's mostly been working from home. Apparently you turned her into quite the spectacle at the office with your little publicity stunt."

Mitchum breathed a sigh of relief. With the phone tap he'd finally managed to get on Logan, he knew they weren't communicating that way. And if they weren't seeing each other at the office, that meant she couldn't be sourcing him with information for whatever stupid, crap hit-piece Logan thought he could sell to whichever lowly tabloid was desperate enough to print it. Maybe the photo had worked to scare them off.

"Good," Mitchum nodded.

"So," Rebecca purred, tipping her tumbler glass up to her mouth to drain the rest of the Scotch. Mitchum cringed at the wastefulness. That was quality liquor; it was meant to be savored. He quickly forgot his displeasure though, as she pushed herself up from her seat and crawled into his lap, straddling his legs. "Did I earn the drink, or do I still need to work off my debt?"

"Hmm," he hummed, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, "let's just say it was really expensive Scotch."

"Well, then…" Rebecca acquiesced, "I guess I better get back to work." She lowered herself onto him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his neck. "But before we do, I should probably mention one more thing…" She pulled back again to look at him with a shit eating grin. Mitchum felt the slightest tug of apprehension in his gut.

"What?" he asked.

"You're still going to introduce me to Harvey, right?" she asked pointedly. He ground his teeth together in frustration of both the sexual and non-sexual variety. She was using her leverage to ensure he held up his end of the bargain. She wasn't doing this for free Scotch after all.

"I said I would, didn't I?" Mitchum always held up his end of the deal.

Rebecca nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer. "She's been talking to someone."

"Like a shrink?" he asked.

"Like a reporter," Rebecca admitted, leaning in to kiss him.

"What?" he growled, pushing her hastily off his lap before her lips could meet his. She tottered precariously on her heels for a moment until she caught her balance.

"Geez," she said, wiping her hands along her skirt to straighten it out. "Watch it."

"What the hell do you mean she's talking to a reporter? She is a reporter, are you sure it's not just for work?" Logan was the one digging for a story on him. Logan was the one, if anyone, she was supposed to be spilling her sordid story to. No one was going to take Logan seriously. But another reporter? That was serious.

Rebecca gave him another one of her generations patented eye rolls. "Delusional much? Of course it's about you. Apparently her and your son have been working with someone else."

"Who?"

"I'm still working that bit out," she admitted. "I think she realized she was talking too much when she spilled that little nugget. She got really tight-lipped after that."

"Fucking-ay," he growled. "Are you fucking serious? You find out she's talking to a fucking reporter and you don't get me a fucking name?"

"Dude, take a chill pill," she told him. "I'll get it. And even if I don't, no one is going to take anything that pathetic girl has to say seriously. You've successfully turned her into a laughing-stock."

That was hardly the consolation he'd hoped it would be. Rory Gilmore was not the only girl in his past who could have unflattering things to say about him. And if someone was digging deep enough, he had to stop them before they found the rest of his hidden bones. Still, there was nothing he could do about it at this hour. He'd contact the people he needed to contact tomorrow. Until then, the only other thing he could do was find a release for his wrath.

Mitchum stood up, grabbing Rebecca by the wrist and making his way across the living room towards the hallway.

"Where are we going?" she asked as she stumbled along after him.

"I think it's time for that spanking," he informed her, glancing back over her his shoulder to see that she was following willingly. The smug smile on her face said it all.

Logan closed the door behind him as he entered the office of his friend-slash-boss. He knew the moment he'd gotten the email from Hugo asking to see him ASAP that this was not going to be a good conversation. But then again, he'd been preparing for this moment for a while now and as much as he appreciated his friend giving him a shot, he knew the limb Hugo had gone out on for him could only hold so much weight before it snapped.

"Hey," Logan greeted cautiously as he pulled out the chair and took a seat. "You needed to see me?"

Hugo looked up at him, leaning back in his seat with an expression that was simultaneously somehow frustrated and sympathetic. "We have a problem."

"I figured as much," Logan acknowledged. "What is it?" He assumed Mitchum was making life difficult for Hugo, just like he'd been making life difficult for everyone else he cared about lately. Honor was flipping out; she'd bought a whole new top of the line security system and had it installed within 72 hours of her run in with their father at the mall. Logan himself had found evidence of increasing surveillance. Rory…well, he hadn't seen Rory lately but he'd heard the whispers around the office so he could imagine.

"He knows," Hugo replied. Short, simple. It really didn't require any additional clarification. And yet, the next words out of Logan's mouth were…

"Knows what?" Logan knew 'what,' but still, he hadn't been expecting it. It was stupid of him of course…not to expect it. He'd been expecting it for months, so he wasn't really sure what made this moment so different. But it was. There was something incomparable between the amorphous idea that Mitchum would catch on to them eventually, and the very real reality of it actually happening.

The sense of overwhelming dread was creeping in. It was over. It was all over. The consequences of this were clear. If Mitchum found out about Jackson, he was calling it quits, going to print with the Peterson story alone. Mitchum would lose his place on the board. He would lose his title. He would lose his salary. But he wouldn't lose his shares in the company. He wouldn't lose his real estate investments or his 401K or his savings accounts. His reputation would be dented but not destroyed beyond repair. His life would be just affected enough to make him even more vengeful than he already was without taking away the resources to act on that vengeance. Logan had gone all in on taking his father down and he was going to have to fold. He'd be ruined and Mitchum would be free to keep destroying even more lives. Logan braced himself for the confirmation of his worst fears.

"He knows there's another reporter looking into his…indiscretions." Logan's fingers gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. "Apparently he assumes it's someone here. He's making threats."

Logan looked up suddenly, the faintest glimmer of hope releasing some of the tightness in his chest. "He thinks it's someone here?" That meant he still wasn't onto Jackson specifically. It wouldn't be long before he figured it out, but there was still a window; the tiniest window for him to come up with something.

"He's telling me to shut it down. And not politely. He's off his fucking rocker with rage."

Logan didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," he managed to come up with. And he was. He, of course, felt terrible that his friend was stuck in the middle of all this. He didn't wish Mitchum's wrath on anyone. But he also couldn't quite let go of the relief. Jackson's identity was still safe. He needed to let him know he was on to them though. Jackson was going to need to watch every single move he made. But even then, the walls were closing in, and Logan needed to act fast.

"I don't know what to do here Logan. He's not going to let up." Logan knew what to do. And he knew Hugo knew too; he just didn't want to have to say it.

"Fire me."

"Logan…"

"I'd quit but that would just raise his suspicions. If you fire me, Mitchum will think he got his way. He doesn't question getting his way, he just assumes that that's how the world works—that he always comes out on top."

"It shouldn't be this way."

"But it is," Logan reminded him. "And I appreciate you being a good friend, but I'm not going to let you take jeopardize everything you've worked for here."

"Your writing is an asset to this paper, Logan."

"My liabilities far outweigh my assets and you know it."

Hugo sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, he admitted. But when this is all over, and I want your ass back here writing that column, you better not hold this over me."

Logan laughed, despite the heaviness in his bones. "I promise to give you first dibs on my journalistic talents."

"Well then," Hugo shook his head. "In that case, you're fired."

Logan pushed his chair back and stood up.

"Good luck, Logan," Hugo said as he reached out his hand. "I hate to say this, but you're going to need it."

"Thanks," Logan replied, taking the hand to shake. "For everything." He turned and headed out of Hugo's office onto the main floor. It was strange, walking out of there, knowing it would be the last time, at least for a while. There was nothing left to do but leave. He didn't even have anything to pack-up; he hadn't been there that long and given that he only came to the office a couple times a week, he usually just brought what he needed back and forth with him.

Logan took a minute to let his eyes travel over the room around him. This was his first real job. The first job he got on his own, that he got because of his merit and his talent. Sure, he was friends with Hugo, but he knew that the man had truly believed in his abilities. It hurt to walk away, but he had no choice. Besides the fact that he owed it to Hugo, Logan knew that time was running out to take Mitchum down, and if he was going to make it happen, that's where he needed to be focusing every scintilla of his attention for the foreseeable future.

He started heading for the exit again, but his eyes were still looking back as he went and before he realized where he was going, he was bumping into someone. "Oh, I'm sorry," he turned to face the victim of his distracted walking. "Rory?" she was looking up from a folder full of papers. Apparently she had been distracted too.

"Logan!" She squeaked out, looking nervously around her. He tried not to take it personally; he knew she was probably worried about what people would say if they noticed them together. She reached up to twirl the tiny baby hairs that had come loose from the bottom of her ponytail. "I umm…I didn't know you…I mean, I'm not usually here. I had a meeting with Roni…to go over my assignments for the next couple of weeks," she explained. "What are you doing here?"

He supposed she had to find out somehow. And he wasn't even sure how much other news was getting to her. He'd had Stephanie pass a few messages along, but he'd mostly tried to keep as much distance between them as possible given the circumstances. He was pretty sure she hadn't spoken to Jackson so she might not even know about the ticking clock on their story. He should use this opportunity while he had it. "Getting fired," he told her.

"What?!" her head, which had been turned to the left, staring off over his shoulder and avoiding his gaze, quickly snapped back to look at him. "Why would Hugo do that?"

He took a quick look around then, lowering his voice to just barely audible, he said, "Because I told him to. Listen," his eyes darted protectively around once more. "I know this is asking a lot but there are things you need to know. Can you meet me you know where in ten minutes?"

She bit her lip, hesitating, before finally relenting with a nod of her head. They didn't say anymore. Logan made his way to the stairwell, heading down one flight of stairs, cutting through the floor below to the stairwell on the other side of the building, and heading back up two flights to their empty office.

While he waited, he took a few minutes to search the office. He was pretty sure Mitchum didn't have a bug in here because if he did, he would have known Jackson's name. But still, just because there wasn't a bug the last time they were here a week and a half ago didn't mean there wasn't one now. The blankets in the closet didn't look like they had been moved or messed with but still, Logan picked them up and shook them out. He ran his hands along the molding and windowsills. When he was satisfied all was clear, he sat down on the floor and waited.

A few minutes later, the door squeaked open and Rory appeared. She stood by the entrance, her arms wrapped around her waist, her head down. "Hey," she replied softly.

"Rory…" He hated seeing her like this—broken, like she was months ago when Mitchum had…he couldn't even think it. But the point was, she had been healing, getting stronger, happier. And now she just looked broken all over again. It was clear she wasn't coming any further into the room so he stood up, preparing to approach her but she held a hand up to stop him.

"Don't," she said.

"Rory, please. I'm sorry. I can't imagine how hard this has been for you. I never wanted any of this for you, I just…I'm sorry."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "You're sorry?" she asked. Not in the accusatory way he expected; she seemed utterly perplexed. "What are you sorry for?"

"Aren't you mad at me?" The way she'd hesitated to even come up here and talk to him, the way she could barely look at him, the way she didn't want to be within five feet of him…wasn't she mad?

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"This is all my fault."

"No." She shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. "This is my fault. I'm the one who kissed you outside that club. I'm the reason you're fired. I'm the reason you left HPG. I'm the reason you're doing all of this to try to take him down. You were just trying to help me and I've screwed up your whole life."

"Rory, no!" Before he could stop himself, he was striding across the room and gathering her into his arms. "This is not your fault," he whispered, his hand running gently up and down her back as she sniffled into his shoulder. "This is not your fault," he repeated. "This is his fault. And we're going to make him pay. I promise, he's not getting away with this." He folded her even deeper into his embrace resting his chin on the top of her head as she cried into his chest.

"I'm scared," she sniffled. He knew the feeling well. Too well these days. And he knew it was a hundred times worse for her. The things Mitchum had done to her, the pain he had caused…she had every reason to be terrified. So the last thing he wanted to do was give her any more reasons to be afraid. Any reason to believe that he wouldn't fulfill the promise he'd just made to her. But he couldn't lie to her either.

"I have to tell you something," he said, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"It's never good when you say that."

"No," he admitted, "it's not."

"What did he do?" she sighed, pulling out of his hold and wiping the tears from her eyes. It pained him how often she had tears in her eyes when he was around.

"What didn't he do?" Logan bit out in frustration. He hated how out of control everything was. He hated how the people he cared about were hurting and he couldn't do a thing about it. "He put that picture in the paper, he's upped his surveillance, he's harassing Hugo, He's harassing his own daughter and granddaughter…"

"Penny?" Rory gasped.

"He cornered Honor at the mall," Logan confessed. "He was very careful about what he said, but…yeah."

"Oh god," she gasped in horror.

"There's more."

"More than a man threatening his own grandchild? A baby, Logan! She'd just a poor innocent baby!"

"Believe me," he said. "I know."

"What more could there possibly be?"

"He found out about Jackson."

"What?!"

"Well, not Jackson specifically. But he knows there's another reporter out there looking into him. He thinks it's someone here. That's why I told Hugo to fire me; Mitchum has been harassing him about it. I can't let him take that kind of heat for me. And this way Mitchum thinks he won. Maybe he thinks Hugo really killed the story and it buys us a little more time before he figures out the whole truth."

"Oh god," Rory pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. "He can't find out. He'll go after Jackson. He'll do whatever it takes to get Jackson to stop."

Logan let his shoulders slump helplessly. More than anything this was the part he didn't want to tell her. The part that killed him the most. "No," he informed her. "He won't."

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"He won't do whatever it takes to stop him because he won't have to. If Mitchum finds out about Jackson, the story is dead."

"What?" Her eyes went wide with fear and he felt the pain of it in his soul. She knew what he knew. If this story didn't more forward, Mitchum would get no more than a slap on the wrist and they would spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders, living in fear, waiting for him to strike. Their lives these past three months would be their lives forever.

"Jackson wanted to kill it the moment he saw that picture in the paper. He wanted to just go to print with the Peterson stuff. He agreed to give it a few more weeks but as it is right now, there's not enough corroboration to take Mitchum down and he thinks that…" How was he supposed to say this? She was already blaming herself. If he told her that her loss of credibility is what tanked the story… He couldn't... "Well, he doesn't think he can get anyone to go on the record now."

"Oh god," she turned away and started to pace. "This is all my fault."

"No," he insisted, chasing after her and reaching for her hand. "No, I already told you it's not."

"How can you say that?" she spat out, shaking her hand out of his grasp, "If I hadn't kissed you that picture never would have ended up in the paper…If I had agreed to go on the record maybe we would have had a story a month ago. But I did kiss you, and I didn't go on the record and now the story is on life support, you've lost your job, and your whole family is in danger…"

He knew he shouldn't have said anything. It was too much for her. But he wasn't sure what other option he'd had. She was going to find out eventually. Maybe from Jackson, or Finn, or Stephanie. Maybe just when she opened the paper up in a few weeks and saw the Peterson story with nothing about Mitchum. He couldn't let her find out another way. "Cherry," he tried her nickname, hoping it would calm her down, but it didn't work.

"Don't call me that." She hissed, then her shoulders slumped and she shook her head despondently. "You should go."

"I'm not leaving you alone like this."

"Like what?" she snapped. "I'm not some charity case for you to take care of. You don't need to sit here and baby sit the girl who ruined your life just because she's a basket case. You need to go home and take care of your family."

"I don't think you're a charity…or a basket case." He took a few tentative steps towards her and when she didn't turn, or flinch, or back away, he took it as a sign to keep going. "You're upset, which is understandable. And I just…you shouldn't be alone."

Her shoulders fell and when she responded, her voice was sad, but calm. "I can take care of myself. It's about time I started."

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," he assured her.

She crossed her arms over her stomach, hugging her waist. "I won't be alone," she promised him.

"Is Paris home?"

"Logan," she scolded half-heartedly. "Please. Please just, take care of yourself and your family. If you want to do something for me right now, that's what I need you to do. Please," she begged.

He looked at her. The last thing he wanted to do was leave. She looked so broken and defeated. But at the same time, he knew she wasn't going to relent. Maybe that was what made it possible for him to do what he did next…the glimmer of determination and fortitude behind the broken look in her eyes. She would be alright…at least for now. "You won't be alone?" he asked for clarification.

"I promise," she nodded.

And so, even though it killed him to, he met her nod with one of his own, then turned and left.

Rory stood on the sidewalk waiting for her friend. She had promised Logan she wouldn't be alone, but that really wasn't that hard of a promise since she really didn't want to be alone. She needed to talk to someone. Someone who could help her figure out what to do. Everything was falling apart.

Logan had already given up so much, and now, he was losing everything he had left; his job, his reputation, his safety. Even his family was at risk. She couldn't stand to watch his entire life fall apart anymore, especially when it was her fault. All he'd ever tried to do was to help her, and it had cost him everything. So now it was her turn; her turn to figure out how to help him, even if it meant she had to risk the little that she had left. She had to figure out a way.

She wasn't sure where to go at first. Paris was at class, and besides, Rory was pretty sure any solution her fiery roommate came up with would involve bending numerous legal and ethical boundaries. She couldn't talk to her mother—unless she wanted to kill the woman. She'd considered going to Stephanie's but there was something about her being Logan's friend first that just felt wrong. Not that she thought Stephanie was any less her friend these days—she was one of the best friends she'd ever had—but still, Rory thought it would be better to talk to someone who was just…hers.

He'd still been at work when she left Skribe, but she knew he'd be done soon, so she'd gone to a coffee shop near his apartment to wait and shot him a quick text. Nothing with any details in case someone saw it, just a message letting him know she was coming over this evening. He'd texted her back when he was on his way home, and now she was waiting to meet him outside his apartment.

"Hey!" Chase greeted her cheerily. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to interact with cheery people. It felt strange and ill-fitting. Like visiting a place you used to live but hadn't been to in ages.

"Hey," she replied back, forcing a smile of her own onto her face.

"You look like you're having a stroke," he informed her. "Should I call an ambulance, or would you prefer to just return to a safe and comfortable RBF?" Rory laughed a little; it wasn't much, but it was something. Maybe his positivity was what she needed right now. He had this way of being positive without disregarding all the crap and pretending everything was fine. It wasn't fine, nothing was fine. But with Chase, there was still room for a laugh to ease the pain without erasing it.

"Yeah, I think I pulled a muscle, I should probably stop trying so hard."

Chase led her inside and she took a seat at the small kitchen table inside his studio apartment. He pulled a bottle of Absolute out of the freezer and grabbed two glasses, placing them on the table. "I have a feeling you need this right now," he said.

"Thanks," she replied, not even trying to force a smile this time. "I really do." He opened the bottle and poured them each a hefty serving before sitting down. They sat in silence for a bit before Chase finally broke it.

"Is this some sort of new meditation practice?" he asked. "Because I think this might be the longest you've ever gone without speaking. Honestly, up until now I've considered the possibility that you were a very life-like robot programed to always fill the silence."

Rory sighed, taking a sip of her vodka. "Things are bad, Chase," she told him.

"I think 'bad' went the way of the dinosaurs…or New Kids on the Block."

She appreciated his attempts at levity but she wasn't ready to engage with them so she just continued on. "I need to do something, but I don't know what. The article is hanging on by a thread. Logan lost his job. Mitchum is even threatening his own daughter and granddaughter just to get to him. This isn't just about me anymore. I don't know, maybe it never was and I was just too self-centered to see it." She scrubbed her face with her hands then took another drink. "But Logan…I can't let him lose everything for me."

Chase nodded, evaluating her contemplatively. "So…maybe it's time to come forward?"

"I wish I had done it from the beginning," she admitted. "But now? What good will it do? No one will believe me. Not the public, probably not even the police. Not after that photo. They'll think Logan and I just made it up to screw Mitchum over, maybe to get the company into Logan's hands. It's my word against his, and my word isn't very credible these days."

Chase was silent for a moment, a strange look coming over his face; his nose was scrunched up, his lips pulled back in a grimace. "What if it wasn't…just your word against his?"

Rory narrowed her eyes in confusion, but then she remembered. He had something. Something he said he would only tell her about if she was really ready for it. Something big.

She bit her lip in hesitation. If what he had was really as big as he said it was, once she came forward with it there might not be any turning back. If he had something that truly proved what Mitchum had done to her then once it was out there, everyone would know. Was she ready for that? She had to be. It was her turn. Her turn to risk it all for Logan. If she could do something…anything to help get his life back on track and keep his family safe, she owed him that. Maybe that's why she'd come to Chase after all. Maybe a part of her had been looking for the unknown evidence she'd blocked from her memory.

Rory nodded her head. "What do you have?"

AN: So those of you who thought Rebecca was shady AF, congrats, you were right. That girl is no good. And now that Mitchum knows there's a real reporter after him, things are going south fast. Logan is out of a job and the article seems to be headed to the trash bin. And Rory, poor Rory blames herself. But on the other hand, this seems to be the kick in the pants she needed to come forward. Logan may have a savior complex when it comes to Rory, but it looks like Rory may have a little white-knight in her too. And because of that, we're finally on the cusp of finding out Chase's smoking gun. Can it really be that big? Can this one piece of evidence save the day? And if it does save the article, will Rory wind up regretting coming forward? Only time will tell, but I'd love to hear your predictions in the form of a review.