44

OPHELIA

Icouldn't understand the strange expression on Lorenzo's face. The way he was talking, his body posture...even his tone. None of it sounded like him. This wasn't the strong bold man I'd gotten to know again. This was someone who had already become resigned to his fate.

But what fate? What was he hiding from me?

And how did he know that I was planning to take Cecilia and start over somewhere new?

"I don't understand," I whispered to him.

He squeezed my hand tighter and turned to face the podium Jonathan was standing behind. "Just watch."

Senator Marco said something to Jonathan and his wife. They all smiled and laughed. Jonathan's wife kissed him on the cheek, and then Jonathan approached the podium and adjusted the microphone. "Thank you all for being here tonight. It means everything to me to be able to announce to the world tonight that—"

Suddenly, the projector hanging from the ceiling flicked to live. A blue light flooded Jonathan's face, blinding him. He lifted his hand to block the glare. Stepping down from the podium, he grinned.

"Looks like we might be having some technical difficulties." Pointing at his entourage, he waved at the projector. "Can we get this figured out?" Turning back to the cameras, he grinned. "One second, folks."

But as he stepped down from the podium, the projector now had direct access to the screen on the wall behind Jonathan. And it wasn't just a light anymore.

It was a still frame of a video.

And not just any video. It was my video. Or rather Mayor Calamari's and Senator Marco's. The one I'd stolen.

My heart skipped as Marco and Calamari appeared on the screen. It had been edited and zoomed in so that Helen was cut out of it.

The two men filled the screen. Marco leaned over and used a credit card to chop up a few lines of cocaine.

There were gasps in the room. Reporters shifted from side to side and whispers soared across the museum, catching fire like sparks on dried brush. Cameras started flashing. To the side of the podium, Marco lunged for Jonathan, grabbing him by the wrist.

Raquel lifted a hand to her mouth, her jaw dropping.

Jonathan raised his hands. "Can someone turn this off?"

His people darted around him, trying to find the remote.

And then I glanced down and saw something silver and slick in Lorenzo's hand. Lorenzo was holding the projector’s remote. Suddenly, his thumb pressed down, and the video started playing.

Senator Marco's voice echoed from a speaker in the ceiling, so loud that it filled the entire room, blurring out the whispers.

"So we're good with everything," Marco said on the tape. "My guy said he'll make it work."

Jonathan Calamari glanced behind him. "Honey, can you get me another drink?"

"Sure, baby." Helen's voice came from the side of the screen, and I realized she'd changed the way she spoke. Her voice was unrecognizable, and with her face cut off, it was impossible to tell who she was.

But that didn't make a difference. It was too late. To the right of the podium, Mrs. Calamari gasped, her face flushing red as she raised her hands to her lips.

Beside her, Jonathan froze, because, like me, he knew this wasn't even the worst part of the video.

On the projection, Jonathan turned to Marco. He rubbed white spots of cocaine off his nose and widened his eyes as he addressed Marco. "It's the same guys who helped you?"

"Yep," Marco nodded. "And they're subtle about it. But it's a guarantee. Votes will be added and deducted where they need to be."

A wave of gasps swept across the room. Marco addressed the reporters. "This is a joke! I was joking!"

His other self, the one on the video, continued speaking to Jonathan. "You'll be the next elect, and then in one year time, you'll be walking into the White House."

On the screen, Jonathan grinned. "Perfect."

Lorenzo slipped his hand—with the remote—back in his pocket, and the video ended, the projector switching back to black.

"What the fuck?"

No one heard the gasp of my curse because my words were vacuumed away by the chaos that suddenly broke loose.

The reporters’ questions turned into shouts aimed directly at Marco and Calamari. I caught only a few of their words:prostitutes, drugs, voter fraud.The flash of camera bulbs exploded in the gallery.

Before I even had a chance to process what was happening, the crowd behind us surged forward, and it hit me. Cecilia still hadn't come back, but as the crowd collided around us, now I couldn't even see the bar. Squeezing Lorenzo's hand, I tugged his arm. "Lorenzo. Cecilia, where's Cecilia?"

His breath hitched in this throat, and he spun around, searching over the crowd of reporters as they tried to force their way forward.

"Mom! Dad!"

"Cecilia!"

Lorenzo was taller than me, and I saw the moment he spotted her, his eyes blowing open. He released my hand and dove into the crowd. But being shorter and smaller, I was immediately sucked into the chaos. Sandals had been a terrible idea.

More than one set of heels and dress shoes stomped down onto my feet, and I struggled to get away from the stampede, but it was impossible. This space had looked so large only a minute ago, but now I couldn't even see the stairs.