Chapter 449: Election Postponed
He turned to look at her, a dark gleam flickering in his eyes. "Emily, are you scared?"
Emily chuckled softly, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with his. "You dared to fight them alone. Now that we're together, what is there to fear?"
Charles tightened his grip on her hand, gazing out at the heavy darkness beyond the window.
Miguel thought he still had two trump cards, unaware that the reason trump cards held power was because they remained hidden. Once revealed, they showed their vulnerabilities.
And Charles excelled at finding vulnerabilities—then striking with lethal precision.
When the doorbell of the safe house rang, Charles was just adjusting Emily's shawl around her shoulders. On the surveillance screen, Ace's face wore a hint of amusement, with two assistants carrying champagne bottles standing behind him.
"He got here fast." Charles curved his lips slightly, pressing the door release button.
Ace strode confidently into the living room, spreading his arms to give Charles a solid embrace. "Charles, when they took Gianni away, I was watching the live broadcast—I nearly spit coffee all over the screen!"
As he spoke, his gaze inadvertently swept past Charles and suddenly froze.
Emily leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a cup of warm coffee. The amber lamplight fell across her unadorned face, making her cool, elegant features appear exceptionally soft. She wasn't wearing that iconic silver mask. Her long hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, and she exuded a languid yet noble air.
"This is..."
Ace's pupils contracted slightly. His gaze shifted between Emily and Charles before finally settling on their clasped hands. Charles's hand rested naturally at Emily's waist, and the legendary mysterious, ruthlessly efficient heir to Hell's Angels showed no intention of avoiding his touch.
Ace's voice wavered. "Ms. Natasha? So this is Ms. Natasha's true appearance?"
Emily's lips curved upward as she set her cup on the coffee table. "Mr. Ace Austin. A pleasure."
"You two..." Ace pointed at Charles, then at Emily, his expression shifting from shock to comprehension, finally settling into complicated admiration. "Charles, you kept this well hidden. No wonder you knew Hell's Angels' every move—you were already..."
He drew out the syllables, raising his eyebrows suggestively as he leaned closer to Charles. "When did this happen?"
Charles remained impassive, tucking a loose strand of Emily's hair behind her ear. "None of your business."
Ace raised an eyebrow, deliberately looking wounded. "Charles, that's harsh. We've been through life and death together..."
Charles cut him off, shoving a chilled champagne bottle into his hands. "Life and death aside, Emily is different."
Ace paused, then smiled knowingly. "Got it, got it."
After the three of them took their seats, Ace's assistants tactfully withdrew. The muffled pop of the champagne cork echoed crisply in the quiet living room. Amber liquid poured into crystal flutes, releasing delicate streams of bubbles.
Ace raised his glass, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "To Gianni, to his foolish son, and to Charles's brilliant strategy."
Charles clinked glasses with him but only took a small sip before setting it down. "Don't celebrate too soon. Miguel still has Nick and Grace as his cards. Gianni's down, but his foundation remains intact."
The smile on Ace's face dimmed. "I know. On the military side, Nick's got the garrison troops locked down tight. My people can't get near them. Grace is even more troublesome—her intelligence network has roots everywhere. She's got moles even in my campaign team."
He set down his glass and leaned forward. "Charles, since you dug up Gianni, those two..."
"It takes time."
Charles pulled up documents on his tablet. "Nick has an illegitimate daughter who was sent to foster care fifteen years ago. Even his wife doesn't know about her. Grace looks glamorous on the surface, but she has a brother with a rare disease. His annual medical expenses exceed twenty million dollars. Most of her intelligence business goes toward filling that bottomless pit."
Ace's eyes lit up. "There's an opening?"
"Still investigating. But even if we can leverage them, we need time to set things up. And time is exactly what we don't have."
He gestured toward the electronic calendar on the wall. Only seven days remained until the official election.
"Miguel's approval rating dropped to forty-five percent, but as long as Nick controls the military and Grace controls public opinion, he could turn things around at any moment. Even more troublesome is Gerald—he's urgently mobilizing overseas funds to fill the gap Gianni left. If he catches his breath, all our previous efforts will be wasted."
Ace frowned. "So what do we do? We can't just watch him recover."
Charles exchanged a glance with Emily. She nodded slightly.
"Postpone the election." Charles uttered the words.
Ace nearly choked on his drink. "Postpone? How? The election date is constitutionally mandated, unless..."
"Unless there's force majeure." Emily continued, a hint of cunning flashing in her eyes. "Such as large-scale social unrest."
Ace set down his glass, his expression turning serious. "You want to incite riots? That's too dangerous. If it gets out of control..."
Charles pulled up a city planning map. "Not incite—guide. Three days from now is Seraphim's traditional 'Workers' Rights Day.' Every year, unions organize marches demanding higher minimum wages and improved working conditions. This year, we can make that march... a bit larger."
He zoomed in on several red dots on the map. "City Hall Plaza, the Financial District, Miguel's private estate—these three routes form a perfect encirclement. No violence needed. Just enough people, sustained long enough, and..."
"And a catalyst that Miguel can't ignore. Of the two billion dollars Gianni embezzled, three hundred million was diverted from the 'Workers' Welfare Fund.' That money was supposed to improve living conditions for working-class people, but Gianni skimmed it layer by layer until it flowed into Miguel's campaign account." Emily added.
Ace drew in a sharp breath. "Do you have proof?"
Charles said evenly, "Copies of the ledgers Santo provided, plus transaction records from Lumaria Bank. On the day of the march, I'll leak them to several independent media outlets through anonymous channels. Then, furious workers will demand Miguel explain himself. And Miguel..."
Ace understood immediately. "He can't possibly explain it clearly. Whatever he says will enrage one group or another. Admit he knew, he's complicit. Claim ignorance, he's incompetent. And if Nick deploys military forces to suppress the crowd..."
"He becomes the enemy of the people. Grace's propaganda machine, no matter how powerful, can't suppress videos captured by hundreds of thousands of phones on-site." Emily smiled lightly.