Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
DK
The first reality check comes at nine o’clock the next morning.
I’m reviewing past polling data, focusing on the numbers. But in the dull stretches where my mind isn’t entirely engaged, Luna’s right there.
I saved her text from last night.
Mnandi Luna: I’m home. No second thoughts. I hope you sleep well.
I did. Better than most nights. I took Melatonin, which helped me to eventually drift off. But I woke up at 4:00 a.m. Thoughts crowding my mind.
If our actions land a scandal at Diablo’s doorstep, I violate a morality clause. Take a reputational hit. Probably get fired. It wouldn’t be ideal. But I can leave Bayside and start somewhere new without much damage.
Luna can’t.
This is her home. Scandal wouldn’t just fade. Accusations would metastasize. Whispers would follow her every move. Exploring what’s between us could be career-altering. And yet she’s stepping forward anyway. Not carelessly. She doesn’t operate like that. She analyzes. Deliberates. Then chooses.
And she’s got enough rebellion in her to take a risk. But she wouldn’t unless this mattered to her, too.
Unable to get back to sleep, I’d worked through ways to protect her—contingencies, exit strategies, messaging to address any fallout. Plans I hope we never need.
Now, I turn to my buzzing phone. An alert I programmed for anything related to Rayne Webber.
I tap the link. Professional headshot, polished but not stiff.
Fitted blazer. Navy. Ivory top. Soft blue background like water, like her campaign color.
Warm, confident smile. Eye contact that almost feels intimate, like she’s looking right at you.
Clean. Memorable. Not bloated with empty promises.
For a moment, I let myself feel it. Admiration.
I know how hard she works. The late nights. The obsessive prep. The way she fights for her town, like it’s already hers to protect.
Then I flick the switch: man off, strategist on. Jacquie, our Communications Director, and I video-call Gabriel to bring him up to speed.
“We’ll need to respond,” I say to his face on the screen. “‘Make It Rayne’ is already trending.”
“It’s current,” Jacquie adds. “And great name play.”
Diablo scoffs. “Trendy slogans don’t win elections. It proves she doesn’t understand governance. Activists aren’t strong administrators. They’re too emotionally attached to their causes to grasp economic realities.”
The muscle in my jaw ticks. He isn’t just critiquing her message. He’s dismissing her competence. I compartmentalize.
“It may not be policy-heavy.” I give him that. “But it’s smart branding. It’ll resonate with the younger voters—eighteen to twenty-five. They make up twelve percent of the electorate. Last cycle, you secured one percent of that bloc.”
Diablo leans back, unmoved. “Young people don’t vote.”
“That’s changing. And this may motivate them,” I say, thinking ahead. “It could also pull in the bloc still on the fence and some moderates who are concerned about expansion. If she peels off even a small portion of those groups and consolidates younger voters, it shifts the math her way.”
“Are you suggesting I rebrand?” he says dryly. “Diablo Can Dance? I’ll post TikToks with my kids.”
He does an awkward shoulder shimmy that makes Jacquie laugh.
“Parody isn’t necessary,” I reply. “But softening tone in select channels wouldn’t hurt. TikTok works when it’s strategic.” I turn to Jacquie beside me. “Draft alternative messaging tiers for Gabriel and me to review.”
“Done,” she says. “And response tone to the slogan? Snappy? Policy forward?”
My fingers drum once against the chair arm before I still them. “A hybrid. Something like: Why choose Rayne showers when Mayor Diablo brings the shine to our waterfront with more jobs and opportunity for Bayside?”
Diablo grins. “That’s good.”
“I’ll polish it,” Jacquie says. “Pair it with that photo of Gabe on the pier.
I nod. Direct hit. And this is just the opening volley.
After the meeting adjourns and Jacquie leaves my office, I shut the door and pull out my phone.
Neo answers on the third ring, voice thick with sleep. “This better be good.”
“Is the Grove Cove property free next weekend?”
A pause. Then a low whistle. “That’s not a casual request.”
“No, it’s not.” I move behind my desk. “I need a private place. It’s important.”
“Luna?” he asks, reading between the lines.
“Yeah. But that’s all I’m saying. It doesn’t get repeated. Not to anyone. Not even the family.” I let the weight of it settle. “This is serious, Neo. Her life.”
His tone changes immediately. “Lips are sealed, bro. I’ll handle everything. No trace you were ever there.”
“Thanks. Can you also order something for me using your corporate card? I’ll e-transfer you.”
“Whatever you need.”
No hesitation. Just loyalty.
I text him details for the noon delivery.