Chapter 6 - Alina
ALINA
My phone buzzes against the bedside table, waking me from sleep.
I groan and fumble for it, squinting at the bright screen.
Messages pour in, one after another, their urgency making my stomach drop before I even read them.
I unlock my phone as I suddenly feel awake and more alert than I've ever been.
Jen:
OMG ARE YOU SEEING THIS?
Sarah:
Girl, TURN THE NEWS ON
Natalie:
Holy shit, Alina, are you going to be okay?
I sit up and look around the room. That cold feeling you get when your nerves kick into high gear runs through me.
The clock reads 6:30 AM—earlier than Marco's warning about the 8 AM news.
What could it be?
My hands tremble as I open my news app, the sound of my heartbeat filling my ears.
What. The. Fuck.
The headline hits me like a freight train:
brEAKING: GOVERNOR HARRISON ARRESTED ON SEXUAL ASSAULT CHARGES - MULTIPLE VICTIMS COME FORWARD WITH NEW EVIDENCE
The phone slips from my fingers, falling into my lap. The room spins, walls pressing in as my chest constricts. I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't—
This can't be happening. It's not possible.I checked those documents he gave me proving those women were lying. I protected him. I staked my entire reputation on his innocence. Those women were lying. Right?
I stumble out of bed, nearly tripping over the tangled sheet. I stagger to the bathroom, gripping the marble counter. I look up at the mirror, and my reflection stares back at me. I'm pale and in shock.
"No, no, no," I say, my voice breaking. "I verified everything. Every single claim."
But Marco knew. God, he fucking knew.
Bile rises in my throat.
The phone keeps buzzing in the other room. Each vibration feels like an accusation. How many calls am I going to ignore? How many reporters are already trying to reach me? My career, everything I've built—it's all unraveling with each passing second.
I splash some cold water on my face. My mind is flying a million miles a second as I go through every conversation, every document, every detail of the campaign.
What did I miss? What didn't I see? Or worse, what did I choose not to see?
Back in the bedroom, I retrieve my phone. Twenty-seven missed calls. Forty-three text messages. Five voicemails.
I clear out the notifications and open the article back up, scanning for more details. Each word feels like an assault on my character. Multiple women coming forward. Evidence of paying victims off to keep it quiet. It's worse than I could have imagined.
And buried in the middle of the article is the twist of the knife, what feels like my downfall to Hades.
Sources close to the investigation suggest that top members of Harrison's campaign team were complicit in covering up the allegations.
I start to sob. I can't hold it back even if I wanted to. I've gone from rising star to being potentially involved in a horrendous crime overnight. Every sacrifice, every compromise, every late night—all of it, meaningless now.
Another message from Jen pops up.
Hey, I thought we agreed no shady shit to win. CALL ME. This doesn't look good, Alina.
I tap on it to open up her texts and call her. She picks up on the first ring.
"What the fuck, Alina?" Her voice pierces through the phone. "Tell me you didn't know about this."
"I didn't!" My voice is stern. "Jen, I swear to God, I had no idea.
"It's everywhere," she cuts me off. "CNN, Fox, MSNBC. They're speculating that Harrison’s team knowingly covered it up. This is the kind of stuff that gets people arrested."
Arrested?
"That's impossible," I say."
"Alina, I need you to tell me exactly what's going on," Jen demands, her voice tense. "What did you do?”
I take a deep breath. "Okay, look. When those women came forward with their allegations, Governor Harrison gave me some information. Personal details about the women, inconsistencies in their stories, that sort of thing, to clear his name."
"And?" Jen presses.
"I, I used that information to discredit them. I showed them the evidence, pointed out the holes in their stories. They withdrew their testimonies after that. I thought I was doing the right thing, Jen. I really believed I was exposing false accusations."
There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "Jesus Christ, Alina. Don't you see? He used you as a decoy. While you were busy 'discrediting' these women publicly, he got someone else to pay them off behind the scenes."
My blood runs cold. "What? No, that's not... I didn't know about any payoffs, Jen. I swear."
"It doesn't matter if you knew," Jen says, her voice growing harder. "You were who they used to silence those women. You gave them cover for their backroom deals. Whether you knew it or not, you facilitated a cover-up of sexual assault. That's why this looks so bad."
The room spins and I can’t believe what she’s saying. My stomach tightens, and I feel like I might throw up.
"They’re saying Governor Harrison’s campaign team will be questioned soon."
I rub my forehead. A headache is starting to form, and I feel like my head is going to explode. "Jen, you have to believe me. I didn't know."
"I believe you, Alina.”
“Well, it doesn’t sound like it.”
“It’s just, this is big. Really big."
"SHIT!" I scream in frustration.
"Look. Lawyer up now. Better yet, call your dad," she suggests after a moment of heavy silence. "He's dealt with cases like this before, I'm sure. As a federal prosecutor—"
A harsh laugh escapes me. "My father? Are you serious? He'd probably volunteer to prosecute me himself. Finally prove what a disappointment I am."
"Alina—"
"No," I cut her off. "You don't understand. He's probably watching this right now, shaking his head, saying, 'I told you so.' God, I can hear him already."
The tears come hot and fast now. I can barely catch my breath between sobs.
There's another long pause on the other end.
"Maybe you saw what you wanted to see? We all knew Harrison was sketchy, but the campaign was such a huge opportunity—"
"Don't." My voice turns to ice. "Don't you dare suggest I would overlook something like this for my career."
But even as I say it, doubt creeps in. All those late-night meetings I wasn't invited to. The private calls. The way Harrison would sometimes look at me or his female staffers when he thought no one was watching.
Had I seen the signs and chosen to look away?
"The media's going to crucify me," I say, the reality of everything settling over me.
My phone buzzes with another message. Unknown number. Chicago area code.
"I have to go," I tell Jen. "Something's come up."
"Alina, wait—"
I hang up before she can finish. I open the message as my heart slams against my ribcage. It's Marco.
See the news?
I can make all this go away.
You help me, I'll help you.
7 PM. Dinner. A car will pick you up. Tell me the weakness and how we're going to win.
The text makes me want to scream, to throw the phone against the wall, to break something—anything.
But I can't move. Can't breathe. Everything feels like it's closing in, and all I can do is slide down to the ground, clutching my knees to my chest as my world crumbles around as I entertain meeting with this man again.