The Candidate ✓ (Book Two)

Chapter Twenty Three

Lauren's P.O.V

As I press my finger to the chip reader and let myself in- the overly energetic and high twenty seven year old trailing behind me, a thought passes through my head: What the fuck am I doing?

Twenty years ago I would've called myself a slut for even thinking about doing something like this. Yet here I am- any sense of morals thrown out the window. Look at me being a politician.

Ally looks around like she's never been in a nice house even though hers is a mansion. Her eyes linger on the staircase, and her fingers trace the railing.

She almost reminds me of...

No.

Nobody can compare to Isabelle.

Don't get me wrong- I love Kyle and our daughter more than anything else in this world, but Isabelle was the first person that ever showed me somebody else could love me as much as I loved them. There are two traumatic events in my life that have stood out above anything else- neither of them involves the 2023 incident.

The first was her death. The second was when Kyle had his heart attack and I thought he was going to die. During that horrible hour or so, I saw every good and bad moment we ever had flash before my eyes. I saw his laugh- our wedding, and the number of times he'd taken all the credit for a fight that wasn't his fault. I felt like I wanted to vomit and pass out at the same time. The fear of losing him was so strong then that I'd resigned myself to just dying if he did. I imagined what the news coverage and headlines would look for years after- but I didn't care. What was the point if we were both dead?

When I look back at Ally, I feel a twinge of guilt and resign myself to just talking. She waltzes into our open sitting room and plops down on one of the larger couches, smiling.

"So- what is it that's bothering you?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Just that I'm a shitty person." I say. Right now- I imagine Kyle holding our daughter until she falls asleep, and look where I am.

"Aren't we all?" She shrugs. "I mean- no offense, but your husband isn't exactly a saint."

"No- I know that, it's just he- I....."

"Do you?" She sits up. "Let's see, he fucked somebody else-"

"We were separated at the time and so did I."

"He had a man that was the sole provider for a very large family assassinated as a distraction."

"He's sent them almost five million U.S dollars since."

"He committed involuntary manslaughter when he was thirteen and covered it up by paying Meg Haines a million dollars." She slaps a hand over her mouth as soon as the words leave it. I narrow my eyes and sit back.

"How do you know about that?" I grit my teeth.

"Uhm- I..." She seems to have sobered up in less than two seconds.

"Ally. I'm not going to kill you for fucks sake- but how did you know?"

She looks around like she's scanning the room for bugs, fear present in her facial expression. She stands up, ready to bolt for the door. I grab her arm. "Ally."

"I'm sorry I.." She avoids looking at me. "I should've just kept my mouth shut but...when you become the president- then you can know."

At the front door, she makes a secret service agent let her out, and I stand- a confused look on my face.

What the fuck just happened?