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    The door opened behind him without his bidding. Such an action would have normally irked him, except only one person dared such an intrusion into his inner sanctum. He felt his stance relaxing as he turned, a smile coming to his lips.
    “Laura,” he said, greeting the young woman dressed in a prim navy business suit. “What are you doing here so early?”
    She returned his smile just as warmly and waved to the hazy morning. “Like father, like daughter.”
    God, I hope not .
    She crossed toward his desk, a folder tucked under one elbow. “I thought I should get a jump on the day.”
    He nodded with a long sigh and motioned to one of the chairs. His office was a masterpiece of Swedish modern architecture, with light wood furniture, brushed stainless accents, and minimal decoration. What dominated the room was the suite of giant ultrahigh-definition flat-screens that covered the wall behind a conference table. They silently displayed the channels he owned, showing talking-head anchors, while news stories scrolled along the bottom edges.
    His daughter settled into the chair, brushing back a fall of auburn curls. Freckles dotted her cheeks. Few would consider her beautiful by today’s unyielding standards, but over the years, Laura always managed to let her intelligence and charm win over a slew of suitors.
    “Before today’s news cycle kicks into full swing,” she started, “I wanted to go over the message that legal has prepared in regards to this wiretapping business.”
    As director of communications, Laura managed the press, for both Horizon-owned outlets and independent alike. This latest case—this latest nuisance —concerned the accusation that Horizon Media had bugged the phones of the Washington Post .
    “The Post has no proof,” he groused, dropping heavily into his own leather chair. “Just word our response however you think best. I trust you. But stress the point that I had no prior knowledge of any such supposed activity. And if there’s evidence to the contrary, we’ll be happy to respond further.”
    “Done.” Laura crossed an item off the list in the notebook on her lap. “So let’s talk about the Athens trip on Friday. Somehow AP got wind of it.”
    “Of course they did.”
    Over the years, Pruitt had found it advantageous to allow a reporter to ferret out a nugget of information about Horizon now and again. It distracted attention from what he truly wanted to keep hidden.
    Such was the case with this Athens trip.
    “Just tell them the truth,” he said.
    She glanced up from her notebook, cocking an eyebrow with a small grin. “The truth? Since when are we in the business of disseminating the truth?”
    He gave her a scolding look. “I thought I was the only cynic in the room.”
    “I learn from the master,” she said, returning to her notes.
    He sighed, wishing that weren’t true. After Laura had graduated from Harvard Business, he had done everything possible to nudge her away from working at Horizon. But in a world filled with vacuous daughters of wealth who spent their days drinking Frappuccinos and their evenings flashing their undergarments at paparazzi, he’d gotten one who wanted to work hard for success and didn’t have a pretentious bone in her body. Still, since bringing her onboard five years ago, he had done his best to insulate her from the darker side of Horizon Media’s enterprises, especially his plans for the next great leap forward for the business.
    She read from her notes. “In regards to the Athens trip, we’re saying that it’s a part of Horizon’s ongoing efforts to modernize and consolidate the Greek telecom companies. We’re also stressing that both Horizon and the Greek government believe in a free-market system, one of openness and transparency.”
    “That sounds perfect.”
    Pruitt was only too aware this statement would cause an uproar among the antitrust zealots in this country and in the EU, but as it stood, most of Greece’s telecom