CH 2 : I AM !!
Oyster Bay, New York—a place known across the world, and the town where my story began.
I was born in 1940, the only child of Rombus Monroe and Sheny Monroe. For a while, they were happy together, or at least that's what I believed. But like many stories in America, theirs ended with fights, bitterness, and eventually, separation.
After the divorce, my mother fought for me. She chose me over wealth, rejecting every penny of my father's fortune. Some people would call it love, others would call it stubbornness. For me, it was proof of how much I meant to her. Mrs. Sheny Monroe—a fierce woman, a fighter, my mother.
My father? He went on to enjoy his wealth, free from responsibilities. And my mother? She struggled, but she never let me feel it. She always told me, "Evelyn, you can be anything you want to be." That's what I held onto.
But let's be honest, being a good daughter wasn't just about love—it was about expectations.
"Evelyn, you have to pass this year at least!" She would say.
Mass Communication—a subject many see as simple. But for me? It was the key to understanding how words could change the world.
I completed my degree at Westbridge Media Institute, a place that sharpened my curiosity and gave me a direction. And from there, I landed my first internship at The Manhattan Tribune, one of the most well-known newspapers in New York.
I still remember my first day—a mix of excitement and nervousness. My dream of becoming a journalist had finally begun, but reality hit hard. As a junior investigative journalist, I wasn't chasing stories—I was fact-checking, running for coffee, and drowning in stacks of reports. It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't easy. But it was real.
The fast-paced newsroom, the pressure of deadlines, and the weight of responsibility pushed me beyond my limits. Every fact had to be solid, every article had to be powerful yet true.
It was in that chaos that I found myself. I met people who inspired me, who showed me the true power of journalism. And I also met those who reminded me how ruthless this industry could be.
That internship wasn't just experience—it was a battle, a lesson in survival. And in the end, it led me to my first real job at The New York Journal.
That's where my story truly begins.
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So, hello again. I'm Evelyn Monroe, and my journey as a journalist truly began when I joined The New York Journal. Back then, the paper was still growing, trying to make its mark in the world of journalism. And that's exactly why I chose it—a growing industry means endless opportunities, endless stories to chase.
And I was right.
In just two years, I wrote over 150 articles, covering everything from small-town scandals to city-wide movements. More than 20 of those stories earned me a Golden Star.
For those who don't know, a Golden Star is the highest recognition in our paper—given to articles that capture the hearts of the people, stories that truly make an impact. And yes, I was one of the few journalists who won them.
But life has a way of testing you when you least expect it.
For me, that test came in 1965, when The New York Journal crumbled before my eyes.
It started with a scandal—one of our godowns was linked to illegal trademarks. The city's press turned against us in an instant, and every journalist out there tore us apart.
It didn't matter that the case was later proven to be a fraud. The damage was already done. Our reputation was in ruins.
The next year was hell. Employees left, salaries were delayed, and the company struggled to stay alive.
Many walked away, but I didn't. Not because I was stuck—because I believed.
Even in their worst days, The New York Journal stood by me. They paid me well when they could have let me go.
In a way, they bought my loyalty. And so, I stayed.
Through the chaos, the struggles, the doubt—I stayed. Because sometimes, loyalty isn't about what you gain. It's about standing with something you once believed in, even when it's falling apart.
Our Editor-in-Chief, or you can say the CEO of our company, Mr. James Harper, wasn't originally from here. He was born in the Philippines, but life had other plans for him. Family issues pushed him to leave everything behind and start fresh in America.
And that's how The New York Journal came to life in 1960—his dream, his creation. He wanted to build something big, a name that people would trust, a brand that would stand strong.
And he almost did.
Until the scandal hit. Until all his hard work crumbled overnight.
But now, it's my turn to step up. If this company gave me a chance, then it's only fair that I give it my full potential in return.
That's why, last week, when I came across an amazing story, I knew I had to push it forward. I gathered information—some from my neighbors, some from people around the city, and finally, I pieced together an intro article.
James read it, thought for a while, and then, finally, gave me permission to work on it.
And now, here I am.
September 17, 1966—standing at a bus stop, waiting for someone who will be my assistant on this assignment. Someone assigned to me by the company.
His name is Ethan Cole.
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Hi, I'm Ethan.
I know what you're thinking—a short guy? Yeah, maybe. But trust me, I'm the tallest in my family.
Born and raised in Oyster Bay, New York, I always knew my path was set. Mass communication, journalism—it wasn't really a choice. It was just the direction my life naturally moved toward.
And I'm okay with that.
What I'm not okay with is my family treating me like a child.
Seriously, they think I need protection, that I'm fragile, that I still need to be pampered. But I don't. I never did.
Who's going to tell them that?
Well, maybe no one. It doesn't really matter.
Because at the end of the day, I'm a journalist. And that's all that counts.
Come closer… I want to tell you the truth.
Actually, I'm not a journalist. Not completely.
I'm just a junior one—or to be more exact, an intern.
Now go back...
Fine, fine.
See, life has its own rules, its own steps. And this is just one of mine. No regrets. Once you take a step, you better give it your all, and that's exactly what I'm doing.
Giving my 100%.
Running at full speed because—damn, I'm already late for my next assignment!
I have to assist Ms. Monroe on her latest story.
I mean… seriously?!
I'm going to assist her.
Man, I'm blushing.
I still remember last year in college—she gave us an amazing seminar. She talked about career, journalism, her experiences… and it was inspiring.
And now?
I get to work with her.
I've read so many of her stories. I've admired her work. She's my idol. And today, I get to be part of her world.
I should feel proud working for The New York Journal, but let's be real—she is the heart of journalism.
So, I better run faster and grab that bus before I screw this up!