In the high-stakes world of political campaigns, Troi has always been the steadfast force behind Jack Schlossberg's run for office. But when forces threaten to derail everything they've built, Troi and Jack must confront not only political chess gam...
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I sat at the table in my hotel room, enjoying the breakfast I had ordered. I watched the news on the TV, gauging how the campaign was playing out with various political channels. The campaign had been gaining momentum. The press was largely favorable and the Democratic public was in full support. There was positive discourse everywhere I saw, from Jack's stance on abortion, to gun control, to education, to healthcare. We weren't without criticism, but all of that would be discussed in due time. It seemed that the voters finally saw what we did; a just, honorable, and likable presidential candidate. Though Jack was already officially announced as the Democratic candidate, the campaign team and other like-minded supporters wouldn't stop trying to spread a message of prosperity. I was ecstatic, riding the high from everything that we had accomplished thus far.
We traveled from New York two days ago, landing in Atlanta Georgia to hold a public press conference at city hall today. Jack is expected to discuss his policies and take questions from both voters and the press. The event would be broadcasted live with significant media coverage, in hopes of garnering further support from voters.
I finished my breakfast, wiped my hands on a napkin, and turned off the TV, satisfied with the coverage we were getting. Today was crucial since there were many questions Jack hadn't answered publicly for the press or the general public. However, Jack had been preparing tirelessly, and I could see the determination in his eyes when we spoke briefly the night before.
I threw on my dark blue blazer and black Jimmy Choo heels, checked myself in the mirror one last time, and grabbed my notes before heading out of the room. The hotel lobby was a sea of activity—staff hurrying to and from, team members discussing last-minute details, and a few reporters lingering by the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jack before the event. I made my way through the crowd, offering polite smiles and nods, and found Jack waiting near the elevators.
He looked calm, collected. The quintessential image of a presidential candidate. But I could sense the tension under the surface. He always hid it well, but I knew him better than most.
"Ready?" I asked as I approached him.
He turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "As I'll ever be. How's the media looking this morning?"
"Positive," I said with a nod. "The coverage is solid. We're in a good position. You're doing incredible."
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good. Let's keep it that way."
We joined the rest of the team and headed out to the waiting cars. The drive to City Hall was short, but it felt longer with the weight of the day pressing down on us. As we neared the location, I noticed an unusually large crowd gathered outside the building. Supporters lined the streets, waving signs and cheering, but there were also groups of protesters, their signs stark against the sea of blue and white banners supporting Jack. They screamed, holding their signs as high as possible to contest the event and its message. I sighed, feeling an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Protesters were nothing new, however, it was normal for me to feel distressed in situations like this. I always had anxiety problems. It was something I carried with me since I was a child.
