Chapter 70.4

As Vee’s car set course for Aurelius University, it passed through a small suburb just outside the Chicago city limits. Unlike the most expensive suburbs in the state, this one in particular was filled with hard-working people that had, for the most part, found considerable success through their various endeavors. The homes here were not the mansions of the obscenely rich, yet they still housed families that had never once been strapped for cash.

One home in particular housed a man with high hopes for his community and his city. He campaigned on family values, stressing just how important it was to give everyone a home of their own. His three children were all adopted, and were he asked in a debate what single piece of legislation he would pass were he given free reign over the country, he would happily answer, “Robust adoption reform to make the process effortless for all couples, straight or gay.” Were he asked that question in private, he would give a dramatically different answer.

He would launch into a heated monologue about the dangers of gambling, about the horrors of exposing so many young people to effortless, addictive vices simply by putting sports betting apps on their phones. He would lambast corrupt capitalists that hold the legislature in a chokehold, flaunting their money the way a criminal might flaunt a loaded gun.

Of course, Senator Evan Hart would never dream of speaking such thoughts aloud. It would make him appear horribly hypocritical, and it might upset the wrong kind of people.

Well, one person in particular. A person he very much could not risk upsetting.

Instead, Evan kept his thoughts to himself and did everything he could to sidestep the hardest questions of his career. His current project—a bill restructuring the tax status of nonprofit organizations—was much less politically turbulent than his previous task. It was easy to espouse the virtues of tax reform, to rattle off numbers from questionable political scientists about how helpful this reform would be in the long run.

Tonight, however, he was not worried about politics. After a long week of lobbying, arguing, and schmoozing with high profile donors, he was happily winding down after a peaceful weekend with his family. Now, more than ever, it was important to treasure every single moment he had with them.

“Goodnight, Peter,” Evan whispered, kissing his youngest son on the forehead. “I love you.” The boy was already fast asleep after their exciting day, and Evan tiptoed out of the room so as to not wake him. He visited Courtney next, tucking her in just as gently. She was awake enough to whisper quiet words of affection in return, words that never failed to make Evan’s heart swell. Lastly, he visited his oldest son. Jake was too old for kisses and cutesy goodnights, but Evan always made it a point to make sure his family knew how much he treasured them.

After closing Jake’s door, Evan caught the gaze of his husband. Jesse smiled wide as he watched the tenderness in Evan’s step, and the two gently kissed before lacing their hands together.

“Bedtime?” Jesse asked.

Evan sighed and shook his head. “Not quite. I’ve got a tiny bit of work I want to catch up on.”

“You’re such a workaholic,” Jesse muttered with a smile. “I’ll get some reading in and see you when you’re finished, alright?”

“Sounds good. Love you!”

“Love you too, Evan.”

The senator retired to his private study, then collapsed into his leather armchair with a deep sigh. He allowed himself a moment to rub his eyes and gather his thoughts, then switched on his computer. Buried deep in a series of folders, each of which were labelled in such a way as to hide their true contents, Evan had hidden a single document. A spreadsheet on which he’d tracked every last detail of his financial situation. How much money he had on hand, how much had been “gifted” to him, and the massive gulf between those two numbers: close to half a million dollars. He’d only just started calculating the latest changes to his bottom line when a phone started quietly ringing.

There were no chimes, no bells, and no gentle melodies; just a simple, repeated buzz. His eyes glanced down to his phone sitting next to the computer—it was silent and unmoving. The vibration was instead coming from deep inside his desk. Evan opened the bottom drawer and slid a series of folders aside, eventually grabbing a cheap burner phone that had nothing but a speaker and a series of numbered buttons.

“Hello?” Evan asked quietly.

“Mr. Hart, good evening. I trust you had a pleasant weekend?”

“Why are you calling? And why so late? I’m just trying to enjoy time with my family.”

“Your family are all in bed, Mr. Hart, and you’re sitting alone in your office. I could have rung the doorbell, but I figured this might be preferable.”

Evan froze, his off hand digging into the leather armrest as he fearfully glanced at the nearby window. “I… Yes, that’s correct. What can I help you with?”

“Our mutual friend couldn’t help but notice that poll numbers have started dropping following recent… journalistic mishaps. He wanted me to stress that our arrangement only stays profitable so long as you continue to prove yourself a worthwhile ally.”

“I’ve done everything he’s asked of me.”

“You have, and he appreciates that. Now, he’s asking for more. If you check our mutual account, you’ll find a generous donation has been transferred in. He’s expecting a new ad campaign in favor of 1408 by the end of the week.”

“A week?! That’s not enough time to put an entire new campaign together!”

“Are you declining his generosity?”

Evan’s thoughts briefly flashed to his family, and he quickly retracted his tone. “No! No, not at all, I was just… I’ll get it done. I promise.”

“Excellent. I’ll tell Mr. Forester that you were most cooperative today.”

The line went dead. Evan wrapped both hands around the cheap phone, every fiber of his being screaming and thrashing in protest this horrid arrangement. He squeezed the cold plastic, wondering what would happen if he just destroyed this phone and came clean, but in his heart, he knew he didn’t have the courage.

He never did.