It takes a full minute for people to calm down. Vernick stands, looking like he’s about to throw up or pass out or both.
“These are baseless accusations,” he says, but his voice shakes. “Ms. Bright is clearly biased?—”
“I have documentation for every claim,” Josie cuts him off smoothly. “Bank records. Corporate registrations. Wire transfers. Donor disclosures. All available for review.”
She holds up the folder like it’s a weapon. Which technically, it is.
The councilman who’s supposed to be leading this thing looks at the chairman, who looks at the other commissioners, who all look like they’d rather be literally anywhere else.
“We’ll take a recess,” the chairman announces. “Fifteen minutes to review the materials.”
Fifteen minutes turns into thirty. Then forty-five.
We’re all standing outside now because the building is too hot and too tense. Bones has me propped against the wall, making sure I’m taking the weight off my ankle. Around us, people are talking in whispered clusters.
“Think they’ll vote it down?” I ask.
“They’d be idiots not to.” Bones glances at the door. “Josie just handed them everything they need to cover their asses legally. If they approve it now, they’re opening themselves up to lawsuits.”
Stone appears with Josie, who looks tired but satisfied. There’s this moment where his hand touches her lower back—just briefly, just enough—and then he steps away like nothing happened.
“Good work,” Stone tells her.
“Not over yet,” she says. “But I think we’ve got them.”
Duck is surrounded by at least a dozen people, all of them talking at once about his campaign. He looks overwhelmed but not entirely miserable about it.
Then we’re called back inside.
The commission members file back in looking grim. The chairman takes a deep breath.
“After reviewing the documentation provided by Ms. Bright, and given the serious allegations regarding Carolina Properties Group and its ties to Summit Development, this commission votes to deny the rezoning proposal.”
The room erupts in cheers.
“Furthermore,” the chairman continues over the noise, “we are referring all documentation to the district attorney’s office for review. This meeting is adjourned.”
The gavel comes down one final time, and that’s it.
We won.
People are hugging, crying, celebrating. Erica Olsen is sobbing into Mr. Rooney’s shoulder. Mrs. Joy looks like she might actually levitate from sheer relief.
Bones pulls me close, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Told you.”
“We did it,” I whisper, still not quite believing it.
“Josie did the heavy lifting,” he says, but I can see the pride in his eyes. His research. His paper trails. His Intel patch, earned back one shell company at a time. “But yeah. We won this round.”
Around us, club members are filtering out with quiet nods and handshakes. This is their victory too—protecting their town, their people.
I watch Stone and Josie surrounded by grateful residents. His hand finds her lower back again, steadying her as someone reaches in for a handshake.Jesus, Dad. Just go for it, already.
Duck is still getting mobbed, and I catch bits of conversation that make me smile.
“You’ve got my vote, Duck.”
“When are you filing?”
