The clock mounted on my office wall read 7:47 p.m. Beyond the glass, the Manhattan financial district shimmered—countless lights glowing against the dark sky—but thirty-two floors above the street, I...

The rain was absolutely relentless that night. The kind that hammers against the windows like it’s trying to get inside. I was standing in the kitchen of the...

The office of Media Stream had finally quieted down after everyone else had gone home. Only the soft hum of computers and the steady tap of keyboards broke...

My name is Maya Collins, and on my thirtieth birthday, I was standing alone in my cramped Brooklyn studio apartment. A single candle leaned awkwardly out of a...

After my mother died, my father moved her sister into our house—and from the very first day, Amanda made sure I understood that I was no longer wanted....