Step Aside, Mr. President.

Chapter 10 - Power Play

August 15, 2024

Late that evening, in the private quarters of their Manhattan penthouse, Maria Fitzgerald found her husband standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, his reflection ghostlike against the city lights below. The news played silently on the television – Eleanor Montgomery's latest campaign speech following Hayes's July 20th endorsement, her practiced smile never quite reaching her eyes.

"You haven't eaten," she said, not a question but a statement of fact. Twenty-one years of marriage had taught her to read the subtle signs others missed.

"Politics is a brutal game," he said, watching the city lights below. "But what they did to Hayes..." He shook his head. "Using the Justice Department as a weapon against your opponents is one thing but to go threaten to go against your own president forget that they targeted me. That's a new low, even for the Democrats."

Maria moved to stand beside him, her presence warming the space between them. At fifty-four, she knew what people said about her – the former Miss Universe, the gold-digger, the trophy wife. They didn't see the nights like these, when the power brokers and cameras were gone, when it was just Matthew analyzing the chess moves that had reshaped the political landscape.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she said simply.

"Hayes and I have our differences – plenty of them. But he earned his place no matter my grumblings about 2020. Thirty years in Congress, Speaker of the House, Vice President." He swirled the scotch in his glass. "You don't push out a sitting president of your own party by threatening his daughter and going publicly against his age. Not if you want to maintain any credibility with the American people."

Maria studied him, remembering their first meeting in 2003. She'd expected another wealthy man looking for arm candy. Instead, she'd found someone who understood power – not just how to acquire it, but how it could corrupt when wielded without principles.

"You're going to use this," she observed.

"The Democratic establishment just handed me a gift." His expression hardened. "They want to talk about leadership? Let's talk about how they treat their leaders."

August 30, 2024

In a private room at the St. Regis, William Fitzgerald was reviewing polling data when his father arrived from a rally in Ohio. The energy was different now – less about ideology, more about institutional integrity.

"The numbers are shifting," William said, pulling up the latest data. "Montgomery's favorability among independent voters dropped ten points since July. Even traditional Democrats are uncomfortable with how this played out."

"Of course they are," Matthew replied, loosening his tie. "Americans understand ambition. What they don't like is cowardice. Having Morrison and the DNC do your dirty work while pretending you're above it all? That's not leadership."

"Patricia Fisher's endorsement speech yesterday was telling," William noted. "All that talk about 'necessary transitions' and 'the future of the party.' She couldn't even look at the cameras."

"Because she knows what this means for party unity." Matthew's voice carried the satisfaction of a seasoned strategist watching his opponents' mistakes unfold. "They're betting everything on Montgomery's youth and charisma making people forget how she got the nomination."

September 3, 2024

In a secluded corner of Le Bernardin, Thomas Ellis watched Elizabeth Hayes methodically slice into her untouched salmon. After decades in media, he'd learned to read people's silences. Elizabeth's was eloquent.

"Gabriel's appearing with Eleanor at the Labor Day rally," Thomas said, testing the waters. "Third joint appearance in two weeks."

Elizabeth's knife paused momentarily. "Interesting timing. Right after they pushed for the idea that a president shouldn't have to campaign actively for a party nominee." Her voice was perfectly modulated, but Thomas caught the slight edge. "A sitting president whose has spent more than half his life in service to the American people forced to step aside for good of the country and party."

"The stories practically write themselves," Thomas offered carefully. "The coronation of a party nominee instead of convention for a party nominee, the convenient investigations into Rhea's committee work, the sudden flood of op-eds about age and competency..."

"All very newsworthy, I'm sure." Elizabeth took a measured sip of wine.

"You know," Thomas leaned forward slightly, "one exclusive interview from you would change everything. The real story of what happened between July 22nd and August 1st. The meetings, the threats, the ultimatums. Jane Morrison's been dropping hints about texts she's saved."

Elizabeth set down her glass, studying him with the same steady gaze that had unnerved more than one political operative over the years. "Tell me, Thomas. When did threatening a president's child become acceptable party strategy?"

He recognized the shift in tone. This wasn't just conversation anymore.

"It's not," he replied. "And your silence on the matter is... noticeable."

"Is it?" A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "More noticeable than Eleanor announcing her campaign plan on July 15th? Just four days after the President decided to not accept the nomination?"

Thomas sat back, understanding dawning. "You want the story to tell itself."

"I want the truth to have its moment," Elizabeth corrected. "But Nic spent fifty years building his career. We won't be the ones to burn it down, no matter how..." she paused, selecting her words with surgical precision, "disappointed we might be in certain leadership decisions."

"And Fitzgerald's sudden eloquence about party loyalty and institutional respect?"

"Isn't it remarkable," Elizabeth said, her tone pleasant, "how perspective changes when you watch someone else's execution? Even an old rival's."

Thomas studied her for a long moment. "You know, your restraint in all this – it's making the story bigger, not smaller. People can't stop talking about how the Hayes family has handled it. The dignity, the silence..."

"The party made its choice," Elizabeth said simply. "They'll have to live with the consequences." She glanced at her watch. "I should go. I'm having dinner with Jane Morrison tomorrow. She mentioned something about new poll number on popular vote. Purely social conversation, of course."

As she stood to leave, Thomas caught her arm gently. "Elizabeth. One word from you, and every network I own would run the whole story. Everything. The threats, the affair, all of it."

She patted his hand, her smile both gracious and warning. "Thank you, Thomas. But Nic and I believe in the Democratic Party, even if some of its current leadership has forgotten what that means. We'll weather this storm."

"And Eleanor? Gabriel?"

"They'll weather whatever storms they create for themselves." She gathered her coat. "Though I hear Michigan's lovely this time of year. Matt Fitzgerald's giving a speech there next week about institutional integrity. Might be worth covering."

Thomas watched her leave, already reaching for his phone to adjust the week's coverage priorities. Elizabeth Hayes had just given him permission to tell a story – not through scandal or exposé, but through the slow, devastating accumulation of observable facts.

Some revenge, he reflected, was best served not cold, but with impeccable manners and unimpeachable timing.