The silence that follows is the longest of my life.
My father looks at me—really looks at me—and something in his expression shifts. The politician's mask slips, just for a moment, and underneath I see something I've never seen before.
Exhaustion. And beneath that, a cold, pragmatic acceptance.
"Don't be naive, Carter."
The words land like a blade between my ribs.
"How do you think we built all of this?" He gestures at the room, at the portraits, at everything the Crane name represents. "Your grandfather didn't get to where he was by following rules. Neither did I. Politics isn't a gentleman's game. It never has been. The people who pretend otherwise are either lying or losing."
I can't breathe. The room feels like it's tilting.
"This is how the world works, son." His voice is patient now, almost gentle, like he's explaining something obvious to a slow child. "The people who win are the people willing to do what's necessary. Your grandfather understood that. I understand it. I thought you understood it too."
I push back from the desk. My hands are shaking.
“Everything he wrote. It was all true."
"It was a selective presentation of facts designed to cause maximum damage." My father stands, coming around the desk toward me. "Yes, we've made deals. Yes, we've bent rules. But we've also built schools and hospitals and infrastructure. We've created jobs. We've served this state for three generations. The good we've done far outweighs—"
"This is different. This is criminal. We couldbothgo to prison."
He guffaws. "Don’t be ridiculous, Carter. That’s not for people like us. We’d make a deal long before it got to that point.”
“We shouldn’t have to!”
“I'm a pragmatist." He puts his hand on my shoulder. I step back, out of reach. "Carter. Listen to me. This is how power works. This is how it's always worked. The difference between us and everyone else is that we got caught. And we're going to survive this, the same way Cranes have always survived. Together. As a family."
"Kate didn't think so."
His expression hardens. "Kate made her choice. She'll have to live with the consequences."
"What consequences?"
"Her trust fund access has been restricted. She's been made to understand that her actions have costs."
"You're punishing her for telling the truth."
"If she dislikes our money so much, she doesn’t get access to it." His voice is ice now. "And I expect you to do the same. Whatever personal feelings you have about Dean, whatever happened between you—"
I go cold. "What?"
"Did you think I didn't know?" My father's smile is thin, humorless. "You were careful, I'll give you that. But not careful enough."
The floor drops out from under me.
"I don't know what you're—"
"Save it." He waves a hand dismissively. "I'm not interested in the details. What I am interested in is your loyalty. You ended things. That's good. Now I need you to stay ended. No contact, no weakness, no complications. Dean is poison. Whatever you felt for him, bury it."
"It's over," I say. The truest lie I've ever told. "There's nothing to bury."
"Good." My father claps my shoulder, satisfied. "Then we understand each other."
He says it casually, like it's nothing.
I walk out of the study, my father's admission still ringing in my ears, I feel the ground shifting beneath my feet.
