Chapter 14: "The Cracks Beneath" (August 2021)
The heat of the summer was heavy in the air, but inside Logan and Rory's home, the atmosphere was far from relaxed. What had started with a sense of hope and momentum just weeks earlier had now spiraled into something far more chaotic than they had anticipated. The success of their plan to save *The Magna* had taken on a life of its own.
It all began with the storytelling event that April and Finn had organized—a groundbreaking celebration of independent voices that had, unexpectedly, drawn unprecedented media attention. Held in an artfully renovated old theater downtown, the event was both intimate and spectacular. The tagline, *"Your Story, Our Stage,"* had become a rallying cry for those who felt overlooked by mainstream media. The event had been meticulously curated by April, ensuring every story shared was authentic, raw, and deeply personal—ranging from local political struggles to small-town journalists standing up against corruption.
People watching in the theater or online weren't just passive observers; they were part of the dialogue, contributing in real time through live polls, forums, and spontaneous digital submissions. It was more than just a showcase—it became a global conversation.
Finn, in his element, orchestrated the night into more than just a media event; it was a spectacle. He blended intellectual engagement with entertainment, interspersing moments of lightness between the deeply personal stories. There were live musicians, creative performances, and surprise appearances from well-known journalists and activists who had arrived to show their support for independent media.
The event quickly took off on social media, trending worldwide for hours. *The Magna*'s website saw record traffic as people from around the globe tuned in to participate. Mary's digital strategy, with its interactive features, made viewers feel like they were part of something historic. The online community swelled in size overnight, with forums lighting up with discussions about media freedom, journalistic integrity, and the importance of independent voices.
As the event unfolded, influential figures took notice. Prominent journalists, activists, and even celebrities tweeted their support for *The Magna* and the importance of protecting independent media. Donations surged, backers stepped forward in droves, and a new wave of political endorsements trickled in. It wasn't just a win—it was an overwhelming victory.
For Logan and Rory, the night had felt like a validation of everything they'd worked toward. They had saved *The Magna*. More than that, they had positioned it as a beacon of independent journalism in a world dominated by media monopolies. The wave of support exceeded their wildest expectations—financial backing, public endorsement, and media coverage that placed *The Magna* firmly on the national stage. The messaging was clear: *The Magna* stood against corporate media, and it was giving everyday people a platform.
But as the excitement of the night wore off, they began to see the other side of their success.
The very next morning, stories began appearing in major publications about Logan and Rory—not about their work at *The Magna, but about their personal lives. Reporters dug deeper into Logan's relationship with his father, Mitchum Huntzberger, speculating whether Logan's involvement with *The Magna* was a calculated move against Mitchum's political career. Some outlets suggested a power struggle within the Huntzberger family, with Logan and Rory at the center.
The attention on Rory was equally intrusive. Photos of her from the event, visibly pregnant, were plastered across gossip columns. Speculations about her role in Logan's business dealings, her influence over *The Magna, and even her relationship with Mitchum became fodder for public debate. Suddenly, everyone had an opinion on their family dynamics, and the press seemed more interested in digging into their personal lives than focusing on the platform they had built.
What had been a professional triumph had turned into a personal nightmare. Every move they made was scrutinized. Reporters followed them everywhere. Paparazzi camped outside their home, hoping to catch a glimpse of their family. Logan and Rory had gone from being the guardians of independent journalism to unwilling public figures trapped in a media circus.
The success of the storytelling event, while spectacular in its impact, had become the tipping point that exposed Logan and Rory to a level of scrutiny they hadn't prepared for. Their victory in saving *The Magna* had brought them into the very spotlight they had tried to avoid, and there was no turning back.
Logan's meetings with backers, once professional and strategic, began to feel more like interrogations. Investors started asking probing questions about his political beliefs, and whispers circulated that Logan's involvement in *The Magna* was a statement against his father's campaign. The deeper they were pulled into the media storm, the harder it became to distinguish fact from speculation.
The more successful *The Magna* became, the more Logan and Rory felt like their personal lives were being devoured by public curiosity. What should have been a victory was slowly unraveling into a nightmare, and they were losing control of the narrative they had so carefully crafted.
That's how it started—just a few headlines, a few whispers. But now, just weeks later, they couldn't step outside without being hounded by reporters. The excitement they had felt after the storytelling event had vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of intrusion. Their lives were no longer their own.
Logan sat at the kitchen table, his phone buzzing constantly with messages from Colin, investors, and backers. Mary's digital strategy had not only driven a surge in readers, but it had transformed *The Magna* into a symbol of independent journalism, a rallying point for those disillusioned by corporate media. Logan had secured more financial support than he had thought possible, and with Rory's high-profile pieces garnering national attention, it seemed like they had done the impossible—they had built something untouchable.
But with success, and the attention from Mitchum's political campaign, came scrutiny.
Logan glanced at the kitchen window, where a line of cars was parked just beyond the driveway. Photographers, journalists, and even curious onlookers had made camp outside their home, waiting for a glimpse of their family life. The press had found them, and it wasn't just about *The Magna* anymore—it was about Logan, Rory, and the unborn twins Rory was carrying.
The sharp sound of a phone camera click outside shattered his focus. His hands clenched around his coffee cup.
Rory appeared in the doorway, her growing belly more visible with each passing week, her face drawn with exhaustion. She leaned against the counter, rubbing her temples. "They're still out there, aren't they?" she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.
"They're not going anywhere," Logan replied, a bitter edge to his words. "Not until they get what they want."
Rory sighed, moving to the table and dropping heavily into the chair beside him. "What happened to 'no press is bad press'?" she asked, though her tone was weary, not mocking.
"That was before they started digging into our lives," Logan muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Before they started turning us into targets."
Rory didn't respond. She didn't have to. The strain between them was palpable, and while they had anticipated a battle with Mitchum, they hadn't prepared for the press to turn on them this way. The cameras, the reporters, the constant questions—it was relentless. And with Rory's pregnancy now a public focal point, they had lost whatever privacy they thought they had left.
"Rory, Logan, we need to talk."
Mary's voice broke the tension as she stepped into the room, her laptop tucked under one arm, her expression serious. She was only fifteen, but there was a maturity in her eyes that made her seem much older. The digital community she had created for *The Magna* was thriving, but lately, it had begun to feel like it was spiraling out of her control.
"We're getting posts on the forums about you two," she said, setting the laptop down on the table. "It started as a few people asking questions, but now... there are rumors. People are speculating about your marriage, about the twins, about everything. It's starting to get ugly."
Logan exchanged a glance with Rory, his jaw tightening. "They're using the platform we built against us."
Mary nodded, looking frustrated. "I didn't think it would turn into this. I thought people would stick to talking about *The Magna, but they're more interested in you guys now. They want to know everything, and the rumors are spreading like wildfire."
Rory leaned forward, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "So what do we do? We can't control the narrative, and every time we try to address something, it only seems to make it worse."
Mary hesitated, then spoke quietly. "I don't know if we can control it. Not completely. We built this platform to give people a voice, but we can't control what they choose to say. I thought we were empowering them, but now I'm not so sure."
The weight of Mary's words settled heavily over the room. She had been the architect of their digital strategy, the one who had brought *The Magna* to the forefront of public discourse, but even she was starting to see the cracks in their success.
April and Finn entered the kitchen then, their usual playful banter noticeably absent. Finn, who was normally so full of energy, seemed subdued as he poured himself a cup of coffee. April followed him, her expression pensive.
"The paparazzi are out of control," Finn said, leaning against the counter. "We had to sneak out the back just to get here. They're everywhere."
Rory sighed, her hand resting on her belly. "This wasn't part of the plan. We were supposed
to protect *The Magna, not turn ourselves into the story."
April, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. "You did protect *The Magna," she said softly. "It's thriving. But I think... maybe none of us realized what it would cost."
Her words hung in the air, the truth of them undeniable.
Logan leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "I thought we could control this. I thought we could protect ourselves if we planned well enough, if we worked hard enough. But this... this is different. We can't control what people are saying about us. We can't control the press, the rumors, the invasion into our lives."
Rory reached for his hand, her fingers lacing through his. "I don't know how much more of this I can take," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "The stress, the cameras, the constant questions about the twins... it's too much."
Logan squeezed her hand, his heart aching at the sight of her so worn down. For the first time, he felt powerless, like no matter how much he strategized, he couldn't shield her from the fallout of their success. He had always been able to fix things, to control the narrative, but this—this was out of his hands.
Across the table, Mary looked up from her laptop, her face filled with guilt. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean for it to get like this."
Rory shook her head, offering Mary a tired smile. "It's not your fault. You did everything right. We all did. We just... we didn't see this coming."
Logan, watching Mary closely, could see the tension in her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped as if she was carrying the weight of the world. She was only fifteen, and yet here she was, feeling responsible for the mess that was unfolding around them. It was too much for her—or anyone—to bear alone.
He stood up and walked over, kneeling beside her so that they were at eye level. Gently, he placed a hand on her arm. "Mary," he began softly, his voice full of warmth. "This isn't on you. You've done more than we ever imagined, and none of this is your fault. You've built something incredible—something that's given people a voice. And that's what we wanted."
Mary looked at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. "But that's the problem. I gave people a voice, and now I can't control what they're using it for. Everything is spiraling, and I feel like I caused it."
Logan shook his head firmly. "No, sweetheart. You can't control what people do with the voice you gave them—that's the paradox of all of this. When you create a platform for others to speak freely, you have to accept that they will use it in ways you can't predict. And sometimes, in ways you don't agree with."
He squeezed her arm gently, his eyes soft but serious. "Giving people a voice is powerful, but it also comes with risks. You can't edit their words or control their narratives once you've opened the door. You have to trust that, in time, people will learn to edit themselves—to take responsibility for what they say and how they use their platform. This chaos, this storm we're in now—it's part of that process. It's messy, but it's also necessary."
Mary blinked, her brow furrowing in thought. "But... we've lost control."
Logan nodded, his voice steady. "Yes, in some ways, we have. But that's not because of you. It's because this is the nature of free speech and open platforms. When you don't edit someone's voice, you're trusting them to do it themselves. And sometimes, they'll make mistakes. Sometimes, the world will take their words and twist them. That's part of the learning curve, for everyone."
He sighed and leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "But you need to understand something. This platform, this freedom to speak—it's a powerful tool, but it's not a reflection of your failure that things have gotten chaotic. It's a reflection of the process people go through when they're learning to speak for themselves. It's messy. It's not easy. But it's important. And you've created something that gives people that space, even if it feels out of control right now."
Mary's lip trembled, but she nodded. "I just wanted to help. I didn't think it would get like this."
Logan's expression softened, and he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You did help, more than you know. And this storm? It will pass. People will learn, they'll adapt, and so will we. But you don't have to carry the burden of every voice or every outcome. You've done everything right, and it's not on you to fix everything that goes wrong."
He squeezed her arm again, his voice turning protective. "But I don't want you to carry this on your shoulders. You're still fifteen, and you've already done more than most adults could dream of. You've built something incredible, and we're all proud of you. But this... this is too much for you alone. Let me take the weight off your shoulders. That's my job. You've done yours."
Mary nodded, her eyes misty, and Logan pulled her into a comforting embrace. "We're family," he whispered. "We'll get through this together. You don't have to carry it all."
As Logan held her, he felt her tension begin to melt away, and for the first time in days, Mary allowed herself to breathe.
April stepped forward, her eyes filled with concern. "What are you going to do? The pressure isn't going to let up, not with the election coming up and Mitchum in the middle of all of this."
Logan's jaw clenched. "I don't know. But I'm not willing to let this destroy our lives."
The room fell into a heavy silence, each of them grappling with the weight of the situation. They had fought so hard for *The Magna, but now it felt like they were losing something far more important—their privacy, their peace of mind, their family.
Finally, Rory spoke, her voice steady but filled with a quiet determination. "We have to think about the bigger picture. We can't keep fighting this battle if it's going to cost us everything."
Logan nodded, though the tension in his chest didn't ease. "You're right. We have to find a way to protect ourselves. But we're not giving up on *The Magna*. Not yet."
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