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Chapter 91
The last of the glasses clinked. Music hummed low and sweet as the final guests drifted out into the soft night, laughter echoing down the stone drive of the grand house. Inside, Julia had slipped away to a private corner with her chief of staff, voice low with the first quiet plans of a new presidency already taking shape.Chance found himself leaning against a marble pillar near the foyer, his tie loosened, his sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. The champagne buzz had faded; what lingered was the memory of the speech, his mother’s eyes shimmering with fierce pride—Who reminded me that our family’s name is not a ruin—it’s a rebirth.When Julia returned to his side, she was no longer the president-elect in that moment but just his mother again, lines soft around her smile as she brushed a thumb against his smooth face.“She’s waiting by the doors,” Julia said gently, tilting her head toward the open entryway. “Be a gentleman and see her off properly, will you?”Chance didn’t need
Chapter 90
Inside the sprawling ballroom, Julia stood near the head table, her face alight in a way even the cameras couldn’t quite capture. For once, the lines around her eyes were from laughter, not worry.Chance lingered at her side, one hand resting on the back of her chair as he murmured quiet asides only she could hear—words that pulled low chuckles from her throat between handshakes and photo ops with well-wishers.Gary, red-cheeked from champagne and handshakes, floated nearby too, a constant source of rib-cracking jokes and protective nudges that kept the older donors entertained and the newer aides wide-eyed.When the MC tapped the mic at the front of the stage, the hum of the room settled to a hush. The quartet fell quiet. All eyes turned to the woman who’d just rewritten a page of history.“Ladies and gentlemen,” the MC beamed, voice echoing over the hush. “Tonight, we celebrate more than a victory. We celebrate the woman who showed us it could be done. The first female President of
Chapter 89
Wilfreda stood before the narrow hallway mirror, swiping a brush through her hair with quick, angry strokes. The sleek dress she’d laid out all afternoon was the one thing she could control tonight—black, simple, flattering in a way that felt both grown-up and defiant.Behind her, the door opened, giving up Helsin’s presence before her mother spoke. Wilfreda could see her in the mirror’s edge: Helsin’s arms folded, mouth a thin line pressed flat against words she’d sworn not to say.Finally, she broke. “Where are you going, Wilfreda?”Wilfreda froze mid-stroke, then kept brushing. “I'm going out,” she said flatly.Helsin stepped further in, her shadow falling across the carpet. “You’re dressed like that to go out?” She asked, trying to keep her voice even.Wilfreda met her mother’s eyes in the glass—two matching storms, one older, one raw. “It’s Julia’s victory party.” She flicked a stray hair from her shoulder. “Or is there a reason I shouldn’t be there, Mother?”The word landed lik
Chapter 88
Chance was half-listening to a junior advisor walk him through the evening’s guest list as they prepared for Julia's victory party when his phone buzzed, and it was the anonymous caller from Tuscany.He excused himself, ducking into a dim back corridor that still smelled faintly of stale coffee and sweat from election night. The second he answered, the noise around him fell away.“Hello?” Chance said, voice taut but calm.There was a pause—a soft crackle of wind or maybe traffic on the other end. Then the voice, low and familiar like a ghost Chance hadn’t asked for.“You’re celebrating, aren’t you, O’Connor’s boy?”Chance’s breath stalled. His eyes darted back toward the open door, where the staff bustled on, oblivious. “Where the hell have you been? I've been expecting your call.”The caller chuckled—a dry rasp that sounded older tonight, wearier but no less sharp. “Somewhere I know we can now meet and talk. I guess you’re ready now, aren’t you? Ready to know the real truth about the
Chapter 87
By dawn, the chaos had settled into a humming calm but the big screens still glowed quietly with the words President-Elect Julia Banks, the ticker crawling through recaps and shocked pundits blinking at the upset that had just rewritten history overnight.Outside the headquarters, the street buzzed with fresh reporters, cleanup crews, and clusters of believers clutching hot coffees and handmade signs that hadn’t quite survived the rain.Wilfreda stood across the street, hood pulled low, her notebook pressed to her chest so hard she could feel her pulse hammering against the cardboard cover.She had waited all night—she’d barely slept, replaying her mother’s cold deflection, the charred fragments of truth she knew lay hidden in that house. But seeing Julia Banks rise out of the ashes in front of the entire country, made it all feel more urgent and more impossible to bury.She slipped across the street when the main door swung open to admit a fresh rush of local press interns. She fell
Chapter 86
The roar inside Julia’s headquarters was a living thing—louder than the hum of the giant screens, louder than the thrum of rain still pelting the windows outside.It started as a stunned hush when Oklahoma flashed blue on the final projection, then a whoop from the back corner that came out wild. The entire room surged to its feet like a single breath released after hours of holding it in.Julia stood dead center under the biggest monitor, her hands pressed flat to the table, as if bracing herself against the world tipping on its axis as the screen flashed again: Julia Banks — Elected President of the United States.It was real, and she wasn't dreaming.Julia’s breath caught—something between a laugh and a sob ripped through her chest before she could stop it. Her hand flew to her mouth as her knees buckled just slightly. If Gary hadn’t caught her elbow she might have sunk to the floor right there, her tears mixing with the echo of shouts that rattled every cheap fluorescent light in
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