2025-07-25 21:05:34
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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
Chapter 85
The silence between mother and daughter stretched across the hall like a wire strung too tight, humming with everything they’d both refused to say for twenty years. Helsin’s hand stayed frozen on the banister, her breath caught halfway between truth and survival.Wilfreda didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. The TV droned on behind her—Julia Banks’ voice, clipped by the anchor’s interruptions, her face a flickering banner of defiance as another state bled red.Helsin’s sucked in a breath so careful it scraped her ribs raw. Don’t break. Not now.“Steven O’Connor is not your father,” she said. Her voice didn’t crack, as if she’d practiced this lie so long it had become bone.Wilfreda’s eyes widened—hurt, confusion, something fierce burning under the wet glint in her lashes. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t stand there and—”Helsin lifted her hand—palm out, not to strike but to hold the truth at bay like a wolf at the door. Her shadow swallowed the bottom step. “No more tonight, Wilfreda. No more questio
Chapter 84
Senator Norville’s private suite gleamed under the bruised blue glow of five muted flat screens. The ticker crawled across each one—counties turning red, Julia’s name flickering just behind his by numbers too close for comfort but just wide enough to fan the fire in his chest.Roney Bashan sprawled in an overstuffed armchair like a man who’d never been told “no.” His sleek phone buzzed every few minutes with back-channel updates—county clerks bribed with silent promises, local judges tipped off about which box to count twice and which to lose altogether.Two junior aides lingered at the minibar like eager pups, uncorking a bottle of French champagne Norville had kept hidden for exactly this moment—though he wasn’t fool enough to celebrate it yet. Not until he’d seen Julia Banks’ name buried under legal challenges so deep she’d never claw her way out.Norville hunched over the largest screen, one hand braced on the slick marble bar as if the entire country’s fate rested under his weddi
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