Chapter Twenty-Four
Nikolai
The doorbell chimes through the house. Before I can call for someone to get it, Dawn is already moving. I put my hands into the pockets of my sweats, watching as one of the house staff opens the door.
Cassidy steps inside, bundled in an oversized hoodie and pajama shorts, an overnight bag slung over one shoulder.
A bottle of wine in one hand, and a bag of snacks in the other.
She smiles at Dawn, then steps inside, the staff closing the door behind her.
“Dawnie! I hope you don’t mind, but I’m crashing here tonight. ”
Dawn blinks, startled. “Wait, you’re staying?”
Cassidy grins, warm and easy, like this is obvious. “Yeah, I knew we were going to watch the debate, and I figured you shouldn’t be alone after. So, slumber party.”
Dawn flicks her eyes to me, as if asking permission.
Cassidy catches the unspoken question. “I have a strong feeling he won’t mind.”
Dawn glances between the two of us, realization flickering in her expression. “You two planned this?”
I nod once. Cassidy gives Dawn’s arm a small squeeze. “You’ve had a lot on your plate lately. You shouldn’t be alone for this.”
Dawn exhales, her shoulders dropping a little. Not tense anymore. Not bracing.
Cassidy nudges her toward the couch, flopping down beside her, tucking her legs underneath. She hands Dawn the bottle of wine. “I figured we could drink, eat garbage, and talk shit. Sound good?”
A slow smile tugs at the corner of Dawn’s mouth as she settles in beside her. For the first time all day, she looks like she can breathe. And that means, I can, too.
I watch them for a long moment before grabbing a couple of glasses from the kitchen for the wine. When I come back in, they’re already deep into some of the snacks, and the sight of Dawn relaxed and laughing a little with her friend sends a wave of calm over me.
I go over and take a seat in the chair beside them, setting the glasses down in front of them and grabbing a bag of chips for myself.
“Oh,” Dawn exclaims. “Thank you!”
I give her a smile and we turn our attention to the tv as it flickers on.
Five minutes until the debate starts.
The broadcast cuts to the stage, and the energy in the room shifts. The camera pans over the crowd, a mix of political donors, journalists, and hand-selected voters who somehow secured a ticket. Then, it zooms in on the stage, where the moderator stands at the corner of two polished podiums.
“Good evening, and welcome to the final gubernatorial debate between Senator Carter and Senator Calloway.” The moderator’s voice is smooth, practiced. “With just two weeks until Election Day, tonight’s debate will be critical in helping voters decide who is best suited to lead California.”
Luke steps onto the stage, his smile bright and easy—like it isn’t a battlefield, but a game he’s already won. His opponent, Calloway, is more rigid, his nod to the audience stiff, calculated.
Cassidy leans in slightly, murmuring to Dawn. “I always forget how much of a politician he actually is.”
Dawn gives a nod and a knowing half-smile as she chews, then turns her attention back to the TV.
The moderator continues. “Each candidate will have sixty seconds to respond to a question, followed by a thirty-second rebuttal opportunity. Topics will range from the economy and public safety, to education and healthcare. Gentlemen, thank you both for being here.”
Luke flashes that signature grin. “Always a pleasure.”
Calloway doesn’t smile and simply gives a nod.
“Let’s begin. Senator Carter, a major part of your platform has been corporate accountability.
You’ve proposed an increase in corporate taxes and stricter regulations on companies operating in California.
Some business leaders say this will drive corporations out of the state and lead to job loss. What’s your response?”
Luke smiles, unfazed. “Look, I know the fear-mongering narrative. ‘If we tax billionaires fairly, they’ll take their money and leave.’ But let’s be real—major corporations aren’t packing up and abandoning one of the largest economies in the world just because they’re being asked to pay their fair share. ”
Scattered chuckles ripple through the audience. Calloway’s mouth presses into a thin line.
Luke continues, more serious now. Composed.
“I’m not interested in harming businesses.
I’m just interested in stopping unchecked greed.
Blackthorn Inc alone has benefitted from millions in tax loopholes that should’ve gone back to California’s infrastructure, education, and small business development.
The only people hurt by closing those loopholes are the ones who have spent decades profiting off a rigged system. ”
Dawn’s fingers tighten on her glass.
Cassidy mutters, “Damn…”
I take a sip of water, masking my unease. I wonder if Dawn realizes how big of a target Luke just put on his back.
“Your opponent,” the moderator continues, “has argued that your views on campaign finance reform are unrealistic, and that limiting corporate contributions will only make it harder for candidates to run for office. How do you respond?”
Luke’s voice is smooth, but serious. “I respond by asking why we’re pretending that billionaires should have more say in elections than the people actually voting.”
Some applause. Calloway shifts uncomfortably.
Luke’s voice is calm but cutting. “The fact is, corporations don’t donate to politicians out of kindness.
They do it because they expect something in return.
That’s why we have politicians making major decisions based on donor interests instead of voter interests.
And I’ll say it again—if I win, the giant corporations in this state will no longer have a hand in shaping California’s policies. ”
Dawn stiffens, and Cassidy exhales sharply. I just take another drink.
“Your opponent has accused you of being anti-business and creating an environment that will drive investors away. Would you be willing to work with companies, like Blackthorn Inc. as you mentioned, to create compromise?”
Luke is still smiling, but his tone is now firm.
“I’m always willing to work with businesses that want to better California.
But I’m not willing to cater to the elites who put their profit margins above the people who live here.
If our major corporations want to be a productive part of this state, they’re welcome to contribute—through fair taxes, ethical business practices, and not holding our government hostage with backdoor deals. ”
Dawn barely breathes, and I exhale slowly. Luke isn’t just opposing Blackthorn, he’s trying to cut giant corporations off entirely. Byron isn’t going to let that happen.
My phone vibrates, I shift slightly, glancing down at the screen, keeping my movements steady.
Byron: 9 PM. My office.
A slow, tight coil forms in my stomach.
I don’t react, don’t acknowledge it. Just sweep the message away and lift my glass to my lips. Neither Dawn, nor Cassidy notice. They’re too focused on the screen.
“Senator Carter, there have been concerns regarding your campaigns financial integrity—specifically, allegations that you’ve accepted foreign donations under the table.”
The energy in the room shifts. Dawn’s knuckles go white around her glass.
Cassidy mutters under her breath. “Here we fucking go.”
Luke doesn’t lose the smile, but there’s a flicker of something behind it. A brief shift in his expression, so fast most wouldn’t catch it.
But I do.
He leans forward slightly. “I have no foreign accounts.”
The moderator doesn’t back down. “Then how do you explain the transactions that recently came to light? Bank records show a connection to offshore accounts linked to your campaign.”
A simmering irritation sits under my skin, knowing that I am the next in line to be the face of the company that planted this. The company that is hurting Dawn.
Luke’s smile doesn’t falter, his charisma sharp. “These accusations are completely baseless. My campaign has followed every legal guideline.”
His opponent speaks up, voice echoing false concern. “Then I’m sure you’d have no problem releasing your full financial records to the public, would you?”
The trap snaps shut.
Dawn is barely breathing, and for once, Cassidy is silent.
After a few more questions and rebuttals, the debate ends, but the damage lingers.
The moderator thanks both candidates, but Luke barely hears it.
He shakes Calloway’s hand again—outwardly composed, still playing the part.
But the way he exits the stage, his strides sharp, jaw tight—I can tell. He knows what just happened.
Calloway looks smug. The audience is buzzing. The smear landed exactly how they wanted it to.
The screen fades to black, and silence falls over the living room. For a second, none of us move.
Then, Dawn turns to me. “Did you ever find out if Blackthorn did this?”
Cassidy blinks, looking between us, confused.
I set my glass down carefully. “I didn’t.”
Dawn doesn’t look convinced. Of me, or of Blackthorn’s innocence, I don’t know.
I hold her gaze, not denying the truth we both already know.
Cassidy leans forward. “Okay, can someone tell me what the hell is going on? Because that—” she gestures to the blank screen. “—was a set up.”
Dawn scoffs, raking her hand through her hair. “Of course it was.”
Cassidy’s brows furrow. “Luke wouldn’t—”
“Obviously not.” Dawn exhales, gripping her bag of snacks. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? People will believe it.”
Cassidy mutters a curse. “Motherfucker.”
Dawn pulls out her phone. I already know who she’s calling.
The line rings.
And rings.
Finally, Luke picks up. “You saw that, huh?”
Dawn grips the phone tighter. “Are you okay?”
A dry laugh. “Oh yeah, totally. Nothing like being accused of financial fraud on live TV to really boost the polls.”
Dawn doesn’t laugh. “Luke.”
A pause. A sigh. He sounds exhausted. “I’m fine, Dawn. It’s bullshit, but it won’t stick.”
Dawn doesn’t seem to believe him. “How can you be sure?”
“Because it’s a lie.” His voice is firm. “And I have nothing to hide. They can investigate me all they want.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Luke… what if they don’t care about the truth?”
Another pause.
His voice softens. “Then, I guess I fight anyway.”
Cassidy is watching her, something gentle in her expression. I don’t interfere. I just listen.
Luke exhales. “Don’t worry about me, Dawn. I’ve got this.”
The line goes dead.
Dawn stares at her phone, her expression tight.
Cassidy exhales, slumping back against the couch. “He’s an idiot.” A pause. Another exhale. “But a good idiot.”
Finally, I speak. “He’s going to need more than confidence to get through this.”
Dawn doesn’t respond. I think she knows I’m right.
. . .
The movie is playing, but Dawn isn’t really watching. She’s curled up on the couch with Cassidy, her mind elsewhere. Cassidy is trying, at least. She’s thrown a blanket over both of them, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap, and is offering light commentary on whatever rom-com she picked.
I stand near the doorway, watching.
Dawn doesn’t notice me, but Cassidy does. Her gaze flicks toward me, sharp despite the easygoing way she’s leaned back. She doesn’t ask where I’m going. She doesn’t say a word. But she knows.
I don’t linger. I grab my keys, step outside, and slide into my car. The night air is cool, and my father’s text still lingers in my mind.
I grip the wheel, exhaling slowly. Then, I’m on the road.
By the time I arrive, it’s just before 9, and the building is dead for the night with the exception of the executive levels still softly buzzing.
The security at the entrance doesn’t ask questions. They nod, scan my keycard, and let me through.
The elevator ride up feels stuffier than usual. When the door slides open, I set my pace and walk toward the office.
My father sits behind his massive mahogany desk, a crystal glass of whiskey in his hand. He doesn’t look up right away. Instead, he finishes whatever document is in front of him, then sets it aside with practiced precision.
Finally, his gaze lifts. “He looked unprepared.”
I don’t react. “He didn’t deserve it.”
He gives a humorless smile. “Deserve has nothing to do with it.”
I hold his gaze. “You planted the bank transactions.”
It’s not a question.
My father doesn’t deny it. “If you want to win, you have to control the board.” He leans back in his chair, observing me with something unfamiliar on his face. Studying me. “We don’t lose, Nikolai.”
My jaw tightens. “You didn’t just want to ruin his reputation.”
My father smiles faintly. “This is merely the first step.”
Something cold curls in my chest. I don’t ask what the next step is. I already know he won’t answer.
Instead, he opens a drawer and slides a folder across his desk. I flip it open—and stop breathing.
Photos. Surveillance shots of Dawn and me at the beach house. On the couch. In the kitchen. One of her curled against me as we slept. One of us…
A hollow thud echoes behind my ribs. She looks peaceful. Exposed.
I shut the folder slowly, locking my expression down tight, and meet his gaze.
He doesn’t say a word.
I turn and walk out without another glance.
As I step into the elevator, my breath escapes slow and measured.
And, for the first time, I feel it.
Fear.
I drive aimlessly through the city for a while, clearing my head. When I return home, the house is quiet. The only lights still on are in the hall, casting long shadows over the floor.
I expect to find Dawn and Cassidy still awake, still talking in the living room. But when I step inside, the space is empty. The fireplace flickers low, throwing a soft glow over the abandoned wine glasses on the table. A half-empty popcorn bowl sits beside them.
They must’ve stayed up for a little while. But now they’re gone.
I roll my shoulders, exhaling slowly, but the tension doesn’t leave. The conversation with my father still lingers in my head, a sharp edge I can’t dull.
I move through the house, checking our bedroom first. Empty.
A muscle in my jaw ticks. I don’t like not knowing where she is.
I check the kitchen, the den, the bathrooms, all empty.
I check the guest room last. The door is cracked, the soft glow of a bedside lamp spilling into the hallway. I push it open quietly, and—I find them. Dawn and Cassidy are curled up together, tangled in blankets, both fast asleep.
Dawn’s face is turned toward Cassidy’s shoulder, her body drawn inward, arms tucked close like she’s trying to make herself small.
Her cheeks still have light red streaks running down them.
My chest tightens.
Dawn doesn’t cry easily, and tonight, she did.
And all I can think about is the folder of photos. The proof that she’s already in the crosshairs. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull her back out.
I exhale, leaning against the doorway, watching her. I don’t wake her. I just stand there, staring into the dim light, feeling something I don’t know how to name.