Chapter 21
Twenty-One
I walk into Grant’s office with a folder tucked under my arm and a headache already blooming behind my eyes.
He’s mid-sentence, charming someone on speakerphone, when I let the folder drop onto the desk in front of him.
The call goes quiet.
Grant looks at the folder before his gaze drags slowly back to me.
“Well,” he says, reaching for the mute button. “Good afternoon to you, too, Madi.”
“End the call,” I tell him.
He arches a brow, but I don’t back down. Grant knows me well enough not to test me when I’m this pissed off.
He quickly apologizes to the caller before ending the call.
Leaning in, I press my palms flat against his desk. “He’s having an affair.”
Grant leans back so fast his chair creaks. “What?”
“Your senator,” I say. “The man you vouched for. The man I stood beside on the news a month ago, while he talked about family values and integrity like he didn’t have someone else’s lipstick on his conscience.”
Grant scrubs a hand over his face. “That’s not possible.”
“Open the folder.”
He hesitates.
“I don’t have the fucking time or patience today, Grant. Open the folder.”
“I forgot how hot you are when you’re mad.”
I clench my jaw so tightly I’m surprised I don’t crack a tooth, but thankfully, he obeys.
The color drains from his face as his hand stills on a glossy photograph.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes.
“That was my reaction too. About thirty minutes ago, right after I realized you promised me there was nothing lurking in his past.”
Grant looks up. “Madison—”
“So help me God,” I cut in, leaning even closer, “if I find out you knew, I will bury you professionally so deep they’ll use you as a cautionary tale in law school.”
“Hold up,” he says quickly. “I swear to you, I didn’t know.”
“Then congratulations,” I snap. “Now you know.”
He drags a hand down his face and looks back at the photos. “This could be nothing.”
The laugh that breaks out of me is humorless. “He fucked her in the back of his car, Grant.”
“Christ.”
“And before you try to soften it,” I continue, “it’s not a mistake or a moment. It’s not a lapse in judgment. It’s been going on for three years.”
His head snaps up. “Three years?”
“Three,” I confirm. “Same woman.”
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, dropping back into his chair.
“Not so nice being left in the dark, is it?”
He exhales hard. “Okay. Okay. We can still manage this.”
“We?”
Grant meets my eyes. “Madison, you’re the best at what you do. I need you on this.”
“I don’t protect men who lie to their wives and parade their morality as a campaign slogan.”
“You think I like this? You think I’m not furious?”
“Furious is irrelevant. Prepared is what matters. And here’s the part you don’t get to avoid: if I can find this, someone else will. A reporter. An opponent. A bored intern with an internet connection.”
Grant goes quiet.
“When he runs for higher office,” I continue, “this won’t stay buried. It will explode. And it won’t just take him down. It’ll take everyone around him with it.”
“So what?” he says finally. “You want him to confess?”
“I want him to tell the truth on his terms before it’s dragged out of him by someone who doesn’t care about collateral damage.”
“That will ruin him.”
“Maybe.” I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Or maybe it gives him a chance to own it and step back long enough for the public to move on.”
Grant scoffs. “You really think people forgive that easily?”
I tilt my head. “You’ve been practicing law in this country for how long?”
He doesn’t answer.
“News cycles are short,” I go on. “Outrage burns hot and fast. If he’s good enough, if he’s honest enough, he might survive it.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“Then he deserves to fall.”
Grant studies me for a long moment.
“My involvement with this man ends after this.” I push the folder toward him. “You want my help? This is my way. One foot out of line, one lie, one attempt to spin this as anything other than what it is, and I’m gone. Publicly.”
He swallows. “You don’t pull punches.”
“No,” I agree. “I pull people out of burning buildings. Sometimes they don’t like how I do it.”
He leans back, defeated. “Christ. His wife.”
“And his kids,” I add quietly. “That’s who my heart breaks for. Not him.”
Grant nods, slower now. “Okay, we’ll do it your way.”
“Good.”
“God, Madi, how do you always find this shit?”
Because I look for it relentlessly. Because if I’m going to stand beside someone and clean up their mess, I want to know exactly what kind of mess I’m dealing with.
But I don’t say that. I just grab my bag. “I’ll draft a preliminary strategy. You get him to stop lying as of yesterday.”
Grant watches me head for the door. “Lunch sometime?”
I pause, hand on the handle. “We’ve been over this, Grant.”
He manages a tired smile.
I step into the hall, adrenaline still buzzing under my skin.
That’s when my nose tickles.
“Oh no.”
The sneeze hits hard. I don’t have time to brace for it before my body jerks forward, and my back locks.
Familiar pain shoots through me.
“God fucking dammit,” I gasp, grabbing the wall.
I breathe through it and let the wave pass.
But the wave doesn’t pass fully and pain erupts.
Kicking off my heels, I slip my feet into the flat shoes I keep in my bag.
I refuse to crawl out of another building.