End Game

Chapter 30

Chapter 30 

Aurora 

I hated being back. Hated the oppressive stillness of the house, the way the town held its breath under the weight of expectations. Worst of all: being here forced me to face what I was about to do.

This weekend I would tell them about Nate. About us.

It wasn't just telling that scared me— it was everything that would come after. Consequences: financial, social, emotional. Retaliation in whatever form they deemed necessary to protect their image. They'd cut me off, smear me, or—if it suited them—try to take him down with them.

But I couldn't keep hiding. I had to take the risk. For Nate. For me.

The studio lights hummed above; the air smelled of coffee and hairspray. I stood on the edge of the photo set, arms folded tight across my chest. A photographer fussed with a reflector, muttering about shadows and symmetry. Dad occupied the center of the arrangement, impeccable suit, flag-pin gleaming under the lights—the very picture my family had spent years curating.

"Aurora," Dad said, clipped and controlled, "smile, please. This campaign photo is important for our family's image. It's important to me."

His gaze was a command. I refused to meet it. Instead I straightened my chin and felt a resolve settle into my bones—one I hadn't known I had until this moment.

"And Nate is important to me," I said, calm despite the thunder in my chest. "If you want me in this photo, you have to give him a real chance. No sabotaging, no passive-aggressive jabs, no staged pleasantries. I want him to fly in tomorrow and attend your soiree. Let him meet you—really meet him—and judge him for who he is, not what someone wrote."

"Love." The word landed like a grenade. Mom's reaction was exactly what I'd expected.

She scoffed, hands dropping to her sides in exasperation. "Aurora, you're not even supposed to be talking to that boy. And this isn't the time for ultimatums. I told you—no more surprises. Your best behavior is non-negotiable. Your father is about to announce his candidacy. Do you have any idea how much planning has gone into this moment?"

"And do you have any idea how exhausting it is to constantly pretend I'm someone I'm not for your sake?" I shot back, meeting her sharp gaze with one of my own. "You want the world to see us as a united, progressive family, right? How can you expect me to fake unity when you won't even try to respect the person I've chosen? Nate deserves better. So do I."

The room tightened around those words—like air before a storm. Mom's eyes flicked to Dad, a silent plea that he step in and smooth the edges.

Dad's jaw tightened. He looked at me for a long second, then said, quieter but still firm, "Aurora, this is not how to handle this."

"This is the only way," I said, stepping forward. "I'm not asking for much. Just one real chance for you to meet him—no preconceptions, no veiled criticisms. If you want me to stand there and smile for your cameras, do one thing that matters to me. Give him a chance."

"Unbelievable," Mom muttered, shaking her head.

The silence stretched until Daniel cut through it like a flash of lightning.

"You know," he drawled, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning against, "Aurora's got a point."

Heads turned. Daniel didn't wade into this kind of thing; he kept his distance from the family storms.

Dad's brow knotted. "And what point would that be, Daniel?"

Daniel crossed his arms and leaned back against a chair like he meant every word. "Maybe it's time you stopped projecting impossible expectations onto Aurora. You did it to me, too—and look how that worked out."