Opposing Affair

Chapter 7: Scandal Amplified

Ramello

After the photos are discovered, I spend the night in Julianna’s room, not leaving her side for a moment. She's trying to appear strong, but her face betrays her. There's a crack in her usually confident and independent demeanor that is now a shadow that hangs over her. We sit across from each other on the couch, the photographs between us like an invisible wall. I reach out and cover her hand with mine, feeling her tense before she relaxes.

“Who could have taken these?” Julianna asks quietly, her voice a mix of disbelief and anger.

“I don’t know yet,” I reply firmly. “But we will find out.”

The clock ticks away as we strategize and piece together possible motives. In the quiet pauses, I feel a chill in the room, something unspoken between us. I push down my concerns and focus on the task ahead.

Eventually, I reach out to Marcus to help trace the source of the photographs. He’s as discreet as they come, a veteran in crisis management.

“Marcus, this is important,” I explain over the phone, my voice low but firm. “We’ve got some photos of Julianna and me from the masquerade ball, left with a threatening note. Someone’s trying to leverage this.”

“I’ll look into it immediately,” Marcus replies without hesitation. “Give me an hour.”

In the meantime, I turn back to Julianna. She’s scrolling through messages on her phone, but she’s not really reading them. I can see her mind racing. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” I assure her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looks up at me, her eyes still clouded with worry. “What if it’s someone who knows me well? What if they know more than we think?”

I hold her gaze. “Whatever their intentions, we’re in this together.”

Marcus calls back an hour later, and his voice is steady but grave. “Ramello, the photographs were traced to a political group aligned with Lance Norris.”

The name hits me like a sucker punch. “Norris?”

“Yes. Looks like he’s working with some of his old contacts to discredit both of you.”

I thank Marcus and hang up. Julianna watches me carefully, sensing the shift in my demeanor.

“Lance Norris,” I say finally, my voice steady but with an edge. “He’s behind this.”

Her face turns pale, and I notice her jaw tighten. “Lance Norris,” she repeats, her eyes narrowing. “I should have known.”

I study her carefully, sensing the layers of emotion beneath her words. “How do you know him?”

Julianna swallows, her gaze shifting to the floor. “H-he was my mentor in college,” she says quietly. “I trusted him.”

There’s something in her tone that tells me she’s holding back, but I don’t press further. Instead, I reach out and take her hand.

“I know this is hard, but he won't get away with it. We’ll expose what he’s doing and make sure he can’t manipulate this election—or anyone—ever again.”

Julianna nods, her expression firm. “We’ll need evidence, Ramello. Solid evidence.”

“Marcus can dig deeper,” I reassure her. “We’ll gather everything we can and counter his smear campaign with the truth.”

The night stretches into the early morning hours as we outline our plan of action. With every step, I see Julianna's confidence return, but the shadow of Lance Norris still lingers in her eyes. Whatever he did in the past, it’s clear that confronting him now is about more than just winning an election.

-

Julianna

I make it back home to Selah, my heart lifting the moment I see her bright eyes and wide smile. She’s bouncing around the living room, already excited for our promised day at the trampoline house.

“Ready, sweetie?” I ask, and she dashes over to grab my hand.

“Definitely,” she cheers, and off we go.

At the trampoline house, we laugh and bounce together, our worries forgotten in the exhilaration of flying through the air. She’s such a joy, her laughter contagious as she flips and lands clumsily into the foam pit. Afterward, we head to our favorite pizza place, her face lighting up as we devour slices and finish with ice cream sundaes. Her world is simple right now, and I cherish every second of it.

“Mommy,” she says between bites, “can I go to your next appearance with you?”

“Of course,” I reply, brushing back her curls. “But it’ll be crowded. Promise to stick close?” I was always hesitant to keep her safe and away from big crowds, but my daughter is just as persistent as I am and I love that I am a role model for her and other little girls around the world.

She nods solemnly, ice cream smudged around her lips. “Promise.”

The next day, we arrive at the rally together, Selah clutching my hand as we weave through the throngs of supporters and media. She stays close, watching me with wide-eyed admiration as I greet the crowd and make my way to the stage.

The speech goes smoothly, my words flow confidently as I address healthcare reform and economic and educational opportunities. Selah is beaming, proud to be with me on this important day.

As the event wraps up, I move through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging smiles with supporters. But something catches my eye—a man moving too quickly, shoving through people as he approaches me. His expression is twisted, eyes wide with intent.

“Hey!” a woman yells. “That man has something in his hand! Looks dangerous!”

Time slows. I’m pushing Selah behind me when the gunshots ring out. Pain sears through my shoulder, and I yell out, “Selah!”

I see her small, terrified face as I crumple to the ground, the crowd erupting in chaos around me. Darkness presses in on the edges of my vision, and I catch a glimpse of Ramello, charging towards the assailant. He moves swiftly, wrestling the gun away and subduing the man until security tackles him to the ground.

Ramello shouts orders to his staff, Grace and my campaign manager Cassie, who rush Selah away to safety. My vision blurs, but I hear Selah crying as she’s guided through the crowd. My heart twists in panic as I call out her name again, but my voice falters.

Strong hands are on my shoulders now, holding me steady. I blink through the pain to see Ramello’s face, his gaze locked on mine, unwavering.

“Stay with me, Julianna,” he says firmly. “You’re going to be okay.”

I’m drifting in and out, his voice a steady anchor in the storm. In those few lucid moments, I realize he saved Selah, kept her safe while putting himself at risk. My feelings for him solidify in that moment, cutting through the haze of pain.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He leans closer. “I’ll always be here, Julianna. Just hold on.”

The medics lift me onto the stretcher, and as they wheel me away, I hear Ramello’s voice still reassuring me, fighting to keep me conscious. The last thing I see before everything goes dark is his face—strong, unwavering, and full of resolve.