“I’m sure Connor McArthur will wonder why his date ghosted him.”
“Connor McArthur was more concerned about securing a tee-time with my dad.”
“Connor McArthur is a moron.”
“As are most politicians and their nepo babies.”
“Says the nepo baby.” His head tilts like he’s waiting for my reaction.
So, I roll my eyes, because that’s all he’s getting from me.
“Wow, harsh burn there, Genius. Get the first aid kit.” That’s not the first time I’ve been called that, and it probably won’t be the last—unless I’m totally wrong about the serial killer standing six feet from me. In which case, that might be the last time anyone calls me a nepo baby to my face. I’m sure some troll online will comment on it in my obituary, but I’ll be too dead to see it. The public’s perception is exactly why I keep my hobbies private.
All of my book social media accounts are under the pseudonym “Maggie,” and she’s given me a chance to openly hide in public. No one knows that I’m the First Daughter. I’m free to have opinions and share them with the online community I’ve built over the years. And I’m happy for my community to stay non-political.
“Why do you hate this bill so much?” The question has been nagging me like a fly that won’t buzz off.
“Because it fucks over millions of people. People with pre-existing health conditions. People like my family.”
“How?”
Guy lets out a heavy sigh and rests his head against the wall. “For starters, anyone with a chronic or pre-existing condition can have any claim denied by their insurance company. It opens up the doors for insurance groups to raise the costs of prescriptions up to fifty times the cost they are now.”
Well, shit.I don’t have to have a pre-existing condition myself to know that’s fucked up. Is this what Dad’s pushing for, though?
“So, this is all some self-serving political ploy?” I say to keep the topic more on Guy and away from my Dad. Maybe if I learn his motivation, I’ll have some leverage.
“Self-serving? It’s a ploy to help millions, unlike your dad. President Fox cares more about his shares in Joint Cross Healthcare, his best friend, the CFO of Partnered Insurance Group, and your boss, Senator Furt, and his wife.”
“Paul Furt?” I ask. Honestly, I don’t know how that man had enough brain cells to make it in politics. His wife, on the other hand, is sharper than a razor. Behind every great man is a woman who is the entire brains of the operation.
“Let me guess. Furt’s a stand-up guy.” His sarcasm bleeds through the mask.
“No, he’s a fucking creep. Takes annual trips to Thailand for the ‘company’.” I air-quote the word to drive my point home. “You know, ‘lady-boys’ as he calls them. Particularly of the under-eighteen variety.”
There’s a long pause. Shit, I don’t like it when this guy’s quiet. He’s a talker, and as long as he’s talking, I’m safe.
“How the hell do you know that? Even I didn’t know that.” He sounds completely dumbfounded that little ole’ me could know something he doesn’t. Guy has an ego.
“I’ve worked with Furt for three years.”
“Well, what do you know? You might be useful after all.”
An idea forms at the edges of my brain. “You want tea on some politicians? If I talk, will you let me go?”
His mask sways from side to side. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, come on!” My voice snaps the air like a rubber band, making him lean back in surprise. “I haven’t done anything to you. I told you that you’re only going tohelpmy dad if you ask for ransom. He’ll use it to garner sympathy for his re-election. Why can’t you let me leave?”
“I found out thirty seconds ago that you have dirt on people I’ve been studying for months. Things I couldn’t dig up in the darkest parts of the internet. No, Princess. You’re too valuable to let loose.”
Come on, Daphne. This is your chance here. Think, girl.
“Let’s negotiate. What if I help you? I can get you dirt. I can get you into parties. Charity events. Clubs. Hell, with me on your arm, you could waltz into the most exclusive country clubs and poison senators until your black heart’s content. Just. Let. Me. Go.” I pause after each of those words, waiting for my offer to sink in.
With every word, I feel like I’m selling a piece of my soul in exchange for my freedom. But on the Hill, information is power—and I’m more powerful than my family realizes. More powerful than Blondie knows.
What he does with my information is on him. I might not have a clean conscience but I won’t sacrifice myselffor people who would throw me under a train to get closer to my father.
