But this post was different.
It felt like it had a life of its own.
By the next morning, the site’s traffic spiked.
My editor was ecstatic, pushing for more sensational follow-ups.
I hesitated, doubt gnawing at me, but I complied.
Numbers mattered more than truth.
Yet, as the stories spiraled, the unease grew.
The hoax was turning into an urban legend, and I felt my complicity tightening around me.
I was caught between the need for credibility and the demand for viral hits.
The pressure was palpable, the power imbalance with my editor-in-chief ever-present.
Whenever I raised concerns, his response was curt: ‘Just run it.’
Now, I’m preparing for a meeting with him later today, dreading the conversation, bracing myself for a decision about how deep I’m willing to get tangled in this mess.
The unsettling feeling from that first moment hasn’t faded but grown heavier.
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