LA CANDIDATE

METHODS

Please don't shoot the messenger, Faryill wished to say as he bore bad news again.

This time, the man didn't leave the room. He waited and assisted the explosion of Mount Wrath.

Betrayal was the trending hashtag of Severine's life. The woman no longer knew who to trust.

"How many of us were aware of this?"

"Keri, Rolland, you and I. Five if we count the headmistress. No, six if we count Faryil," Paul answered, playing it like a pupil.

"Six, we were six, but the news didn't break out from London. It came from straight from Paris. The first newspaper to publish was La Métropole, a newspaper that happens to be one of your former employers. The tabloids picked up the story from there."

"Severine, I can explain."

Severine stood up from her desk, "Explain? You used my son to rig the public's mind. You used my child and placed him in the middle of the arena for the public to scrutinize. Grown men and women don't even dare to come out of the closet, and you dragged my son out there regardless."

"Severine, you needed this. The other candidates have political credibility. The public is with them. Most of France is either Republican, part of a Republican faction, or far-right nowadays. That is the reality. You decided to catch the youth and the minorities, but it's not enough. You'll do wonders with the LGBTQIA+ on your side."

"My son can't be the price, Paul. I want to be president but will not cheat or be corrupted."

Paul chuckled, "Corrupted, wake up, Severine, you're in politics. Everyone, including you, is corrupted."

"You're fired."

Paul pushed his head back and grinned as he mockingly said, "What?"

"I said you're fired, Paul. I will run clean. I refuse to play dirty ping-pong games with the press. We're not in the USA. People here do not need sensational. Stop trying to turn politics into a sitcom."

"Politics is a play. It's the most theatrical scene there is. People don't understand it. At least scandals make politics entertaining," Paul scoffed.

"French citizens are not idiots. They choose who is fit to lead."

"No, they elect someone they can relate toㅡsomeone who resembles them in some strange metaphor. You represent citizens who, for the most part, don't vote. I did my job. I got you points. Sooner or later, you'll understand the necessity of these methods, Severine."

Severine picked up a few files and popped them in her bag, "It will never happen."

"I hope it does; otherwise, you won't survive. You won't make it. The other parties will crush you. You're too soft. You care far too much," Paul walked to the door and turned, "By the way, you can't fire me. The party employs me, and its interests come first. I maneuver in the party's interest. So, if you don't mind, I will discuss your official statement with Rolland and Keri. If you're still unhappy, you can contact François."

Paul left, and Severine didn't even have time to tame the fire of her fury when someone knocked on her door.

"Entrez."

"Severine, there's a certain Karim Al Hajar who wants to see you," Martha announced.

"Tell him I'm busy."

The candidate's words came a second too late, as the man already stood behind Martha, leaving Severine no choice but to welcome him.

Faryil was ready to pounce, but Severine's stare halted his action.

"Hello, Mr. Al Hajar."

"Hello, Mrs Lafarge, it's been a while."

"Yes," Severine replied while trying to replace the man's face in her timeline. "Please take a seat. How can I help you?"

The man looked about and stopped his stare on Faryil.

Severine understood Mr. Al Hajar wished the meeting to be private. Hence, she looked at the man who accompanied him.

"He's for my protection," the visitor justified.

"And he's mine," Severine replied. "If he stays, Faryil stays."

Mr. Al Hajar shrugged, "We'll just have to kill them if they speak."

Severine didn't know whether it was banter or a threat, so she decided not to laugh. Instead, she sat back on her desk chair.

Mr Al Hajar took seat. "I am thrilled to hear you are running for president. The last time I saw you, you stood by your husband. You gave great advice. Some men should listen to their wives more."

Suddenly, it hit her. Mr. Al Hajar supported Alexis' senatorial campaign.

Did the investor plan to help her?

"It's a pity Mr Lafarge wasn't elected."

"Yes, it is," Severine replied, linking her hands to her desk.

"You know my daughter is a great fan of yours. She says you're very chic."

Severine smiled and waited for the catch to the compliment.

"My daughter loves bags like you, so I thought I could gift you."

Mr. Hajar clicked his fingers, and the man who accompanied him brought a rectangular bag to the table and took another box bag out.

Here we are, thought Severine as she stared at the familiar orange Hèrmes shopping bag that ended the Russian doll game.

The man then took a box from the branded shopping bag, placed it before Severine, and opened it.

"I bought the same tote bag for my daughter three days ago. She'd be delighted to wear the same item as the future president at school."

Severine looked at the Birkin bag. It was an edition fetching 60K euros, which she could only dream of having. She wondered how much the business tycoon spent at the French luxury maison to get the same model, for it was outside the brand's policy to sell two identical bags to the same client.

"It's not my birthday, Mr Al Hajar. As much as I would love to help your daughter establish her popularity status at school, I'm afraid I'llㅡ."

"Take a closer look, Mrs. Lafarge," the man prompted.

Severine didn't want to seem impolite, so she took the bag, turned it back to the front to examine it, and opened it.

Her stare lingered on its contents. Hundred euro bills with their currency strap neatly paved the bag's bottom. The scene was heist movie-worthy.

"As you know, I'm an investor. I always place my trust in the best places."

The man was careful. Not once did he pronounce the word money or fund. Severine closed the bag. Mr Al Hajar was a significant shareholder in many companies in the cac40. His visit was anything but a courtesy call. His daughter was the pretext. Accepting his gift was signing a pact with the devil.

"I'm sorry, Mr Al hajar. I can not accept this. However, you can still sponsor the campaign. You know you can give up to seven thousand euros. Of course, the check or transfer has to be in the party's name. Your support will be gratefully appreciated," Severine said with a flight attendant smile.

Mr. Al Hajar grinned, "It's a shame my daughter will be disappointed."

"I bet she will."

The man got up. "Do you like the ones you have?"

"What, my bags?"

"Yes, your husband has good tastes when it comes to choosing them," Mr Al Hajar said and left.