Over the last 24 hours, a lot has changed at the New York Daily Journal.
We've had to let go of a celebrated staff reporter, Penny Wright.
And yes, Penny is the daughter of our fearless leader, Rhoda Wright. She gave Penny a job on the Gossip Desk, writing under the Vicky Durner pen name right out of college.
And it turns out that Penny has been trading sexual favors for shading the coverage of Magnus Davion to be more positive.
That's right.
You read that correctly. Penny Wright has been engaged in a sexual relationship with Magnus Davion.
But if you're trying to figure things out in your head, let us go ahead and make that very clear to you.
You're not wrong. Magnus is indeed Penny's stepfather.
He was married very briefly to Rhoda Wright. Penny was younger at the time, but it looks like Magnus and his stepdaughter are taking the relationship to the next level.
Or are they?
Who chaperoned this relationship? We're saying eewwww at the age difference. Magnus is several years older than her. He used to be married to her mother.
Does she call him Daddy in bed?
That's right. We asked the question. Are these two individuals mentally ill? Do they engage in fantasies that are taboo and forbidden? Is that what gets them off?
We're asking these questions, New York, because we know that you're asking them too.
And they deserve to be answered. Because at the end of the day, Magnus Davion is building the Equinox Tower. Do you want to get in on an elevator designed and built by a man who likes receiving head from his daughter?
Right. If that question makes you wince, it's because it's supposed to.
Clearly, this man does not have the same morals that the rest of society does. If he's so cavalier about engaging in sexual relations with his stepdaughter, who's to say if he holds the same value on the sanctity of life.
Maybe he doesn't really care whether that elevator works or not as long as he got paid. Those people that get trapped and suffocate to death? Magnus Davion may not even care. We don't know if he does or does not. But clearly he's not normal.
It's high time Magnus Davion was removed from the positions of power he occupies.
This paper has already taken steps to remove his stepdaughter, who's most likely sexually brainwashed by him.
It's time to put our heads together and undo his vile influence.
We'll report more as we find out.
Till then, keep your ears open, New York. We'll be listening.
Magnus
Fucking Rhoda. She really had to go and fucking stab me in the back, didn't she? And, not happy with it, she had to go and throw Penny under the bus as well. Her hate knows no fucking boundaries. Of course, Laurel’s fingers are all over this as well. These two are like two peas in a fucking pod. No wonder, though, after the way my marriage to Rhoda ended.
I throw the Daily Journal on top of my desk and get up from my chair. I pace around the office, trying to think of a way to minimize the damages. Oh, yeah, make no mistake about it: the damages are happening as I speak, and they’re going to be fucking huge. Right now, the directors on my board are probably in a panic, and these fucking bastards don’t play well under stress.
The Daily Journal has just published this bullshit exposé, and now the rest of the press has fucking latched on to the whole thing like hungry vampires. Only one hour has passed since the article has been on the streets, and my office is already swamped with phone calls from journalists from all over the country, all of them calling in to get a comment. Yeah, these motherfuckers don’t even care about checking the facts—all they want is one big juicy comment for them to spin around and turn into money.
“I came in as soon as I heard,” Joyce blurts out, entering my office without knocking. Her hair, usually done in a neat bun, is now a disheveled mess; I guess she checked her phone first thing in the morning and, finding out about this fucking mess, just jumped out of bed and drove here.
“This is a fucking mess, Joyce,” I hiss, grabbing the newspaper from my desk and waving it around, my fingers curled tight around it.
“I hate to do this, but as your lawyer I have to ask… is any of it the truth?” she asks me, and the expression on my face must be a terrifying one, because she just raises her hands up in the air defensively and shrugs. “I had to ask.”