Their deceptive ploy made her even more queasy than the mingled scents of roasting meat mixed with body odor and sickly-sweet fruit punch permeating the cloyingly humid air.

  Todd sidled up beside her, settling his palm on the small of her back like the picture-perfect doting husband. She repressed a shudder. Between her overactive sense of smell and his odious touch, Madison’s stomach threatened to rebel. But with so many eyes—and cameras—on her, she pasted on a smile and made her way to her designated chair. It sat near the middle of the dais, behind the podium Winston wouldn’t use because he’d roll up the sleeves of his Italian-made, thousand-dollar Tom Ford poplin dress shirt to show he was a true man of the American people. Then he’d prowl the stage while he spoke as if he addressed each and every person in the audience, catching their gazes as he pretended to understand their day-to-day concerns. Crowds believed his schtick. As much as Madison hated the man, she couldn’t deny that Winston Pershing had the gift of BS.

  Off her right shoulder, she caught sight of Nash in place behind the cluster of chairs, scanning the venue.

  Ethan hovered nearby, his expression neutral but watchful—except when he sent Todd a lethal glare and a teeth-clenched smile. “You’ve made your point. Get your hand off her.”

  “Fuck off, punk,” Todd muttered back, plastering his hand on her hip.

  At his touch, Madison pressed a shaking hand over her mouth, swallowing back a renewed urge to vomit.

  Thankfully, they reached their chairs. Todd slid into his. She ignored him, grateful when both Ethan and Nash positioned themselves close. Roger and Cynthia slinked to their seats after barely more than a nod at the crowd. Then the music crescendoed into a swell of American patriotism, complete with the piped-in sounds of fireworks as the senator took to the stage with his mass-produced smile.

  He took the mic, and Madison examined the sea of people to tune out the horror of this three-ring circus. His constituents smiled back. If they truly knew this unscrupulous man, they would drag him off his throne and string him up with their bare hands.

  But they believed the lie. Because they wanted to? Or because they couldn’t fathom the alternate reality?

  It was a mirror of her situation with Matt.

  Refusing to fixate on him anymore, she focused on the irony of pretending to be pregnant while she actually was, yet being forced to act in private as if she wasn’t. Truly, this was clown world.

  A movement to the right of the stage caught her eye. Was that…? No. Impossible. Except he really looked like…Jack Cole? The man was at least thirty feet away, but he seemed so familiar. Madison had convinced herself she was hallucinating…until he smiled directly at her.

  OMG, what was Jack Cole doing here?

  She shifted in her chair and sent a questioning peek over her shoulder. Ethan and Nash both glanced back like they had a secret. Then Ethan winked her way.

  Madison stilled. Her breath stopped.

  They had something planned.

  She sat up straighter and scanned the edges of the gathering again. In the crowd, she picked out Deke Trenton, Hunter Edgington, and One-Mile Walker.

  The something they had planned must be big. She curled her nails into her palms, exercising all her self-control not to turn and demand answers from Ethan.

  The newsman approached Agatha beside her and held up his phone, displaying the livestream of Winston’s impassioned speech. The watch count in the corner was staggering. Hundreds of thousands of people had taken time out of their afternoon to watch this man actively lie to them. Because they didn’t know any better.

  God, she wished they did. Last week, she’d even tried, secretly reaching out to the girl who’d given birth to Todd’s bastard a few years back to ask if she’d be willing to go public. Predictably, she hadn’t wanted to risk inciting the Pershings’ wrath or stop her gravy train.

  Beside her, Todd reached for her hand like a doting husband. He squeezed too hard. Madison forced herself not to wince with people looking on and cameras panning in their direction. Then Winston turned the corner of his speech from domestic-agenda concerns and other homegrown issues to his family. Her part of this dog-and-pony show was nearly up.

  First, Montrose Westbrook would join him and gin up the crowd’s emotions with a mournful tribute to Brent and his life, cut short by a tragic “car accident.” Then he would tell the crowd that their benevolent senator had chosen to honor his late nephew by introducing legislation to install smart devices in every car, beginning in five years, which would prevent anyone inebriated from starting a motor vehicle. It would also shut down the engine if a driver drove too recklessly or erratically.

  While that sounded helpful, what they weren’t telling anyone was that the government’s three-letter security agencies would be collecting private citizens’ data, openly sharing it, and tracking every person’s move in the name of “safety.” Madison had scarcely believed them when she’d overheard this creepy AF plan at the most recent family dinner. Winston and Montrose had crowed about the money they would make from mining and selling this trove of data.

  Once Montrose had roused this afternoon’s crowd and established Winston as the hero who could only make the vehicular deaths victims’ wrongs right if he was reelected, his wife, Genie, would introduce Todd and Madison as an example of the hope for the future. Madison had been stunned when the grieving woman had volunteered for the role. Then again, she’d played an integral part in creating the intro video that would play before she and Todd announced her ‘pregnancy,’ which included pictures from their courtship, wedding, and other events since—all staged to make them look deliriously in love. Worse, Agatha had patted herself on the back for obtaining a recording of a random baby’s heartbeat and the corresponding ultrasound images as a visceral way of introducing voters to the next generation of the Pershing clan.

  If Agatha only knew that Madison had secreted away the real thing at her last obstetrical visit…

  Proof of her baby growing had brought tears of joy to her eyes…and tears of despair that Matt hadn’t been beside her to share the experience. But he’d made his choice. Or he’d seemed to. Nope, she wasn’t climbing on that mental treadmill again.

  But she had to wonder…if Matt was gone and not coming back, why had Ethan said otherwise? Why were his colleagues and bosses here?

  Applause brought Madison back to the moment. Montrose took the stage and clapped Winston on the back like they were the best of friends and the closest of family. Like his son wasn’t dead because the senator’s grandson had taken a knife to his throat and almost severed his head from his body.

  God, the things people would do for money…

  The pair droned on about their mutual admiration—and their upcoming legislative endeavor, which had growing bipartisan support in the House. Probably because there would be profit-sharing among everyone cowardly enough to give this horrible legislation a yes vote. And since the president had once been Winston’s buddy in both the country club and the strip club, he wouldn’t veto it. Madison hated being so cynical, but she’d witnessed how the system operated in the past two years. The reality made her sick.

  After their spiel, Genie, in a stunning black pantsuit, took the stage. “Welcome, everyone. It’s so great to have you here with us. I’ve waited and prayed for this day. If you follow our family, it’s no secret how much I’ve grieved my son, Brent. It’s also no secret that I’m extraordinarily fond of the senator’s granddaughter-in-law.”

  When Genie flashed the first genuine smile she’d seen from the woman in months, Madison curled her lips up in a flash-frozen expression for the crowd. Did Genie realize she’d forgotten to mention Todd? She seemed awfully nervous, so maybe it had been a verbal slip or oversight, one the family wouldn’t easily forget or forgive…

  Beside Madison, her husband scowled at her deviance from the teleprompter. Mentally, Madison celebrated. It was a petty victory, but one of the few she’d had lately. She would take it.

  “The senator’s grandson is a man I’ve regarded as a second son since the day he was born. He was my son’s dearest friend. He and Brent played youth baseball together. They ate my spaghetti together. Todd slept under my roof more times than I can count. My husband and I even took him to Disney World with my son just after fourth grade. Great trip. I truly enjoyed Todd as a child.” She smiled and paced the stage. “Of course, the boys grew into teenagers, and they were a mischievous handful. They got into their fair share of trouble together. That’s for sure.”

  The crowd laughed, and Genie rolled on with her speech—none of which resembled her scripted remarks.

  Where was she going with this?

  When Winston scowled, Montrose approached his wife to take the mic from her. Before she even considered the ramifications, Madison stood and slung a protective arm around Genie, sending Montrose a smile full of teeth.

  The trembling woman wrapped an arm around her in return. “See, folks, Madison is a genuinely lovely person who deserves the very best in life.”

  A smattering of applause erupted, as if the crowd wasn’t sure if they were supposed to clap. Madison waved them away and leaned in to speak into the mic. “And Genie is one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet.”

  After a final smile, Genie broke away to pace the stage. “The Pershings’ speech writer crafted some incredibly polished remarks for me to read to you all. I rehearsed them…but now that I’m with you, my remarks need to come truly from the heart.” She turned to Winston. “So I hope you’ll indulge me for a moment. Would that be okay with you, folks?”

  At the audience’s enthusiastic applause, Montrose and Winston both backed away with wary scowls.

  Genie had tied their hands brilliantly. The woman was definitely up to something. Did it have anything to do with Matt’s boss and friends being here?

  With adrenaline rushing, Madison watched Genie smile and approach the edge of the stage, closer to the audience and place her hand over her heart. “Thank you, truly. You see, I have a story to tell. Those boys who were mischievous teenagers—and let me tell you, they were always up for a prank—grew up to be entitled men. Given the best education and growing up in a system where the rules didn’t apply…my boy changed. One day, he loved Transformers and dreamed of being a doctor so he could help people. The next, he only cared about drugs and sex and ways to make an obscene amount of money despite the scheme being illegal. He knew he had friends in high places who would ensure he never went to jail.”

  Winston forced pity onto his face and barged forward, grabbing the microphone. “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s still grieving, and sometimes her meds⁠—”

  “Meds have nothing to do with it,” shouted a hauntingly familiar voice that had Madison whirling in a shocked haze.

  Matt.

  From the back of the stage, he sauntered forward, Stetson square on his head, looking big and determined. He stared straight at her, his eyes burning. Ethan and Nash flanked him.

  Madison gasped. Her heart lurched.

  Matt was here. He had come. And he grinned like he had every intention of blowing up the Pershings’ house of cards.

  Oh, my god. “What⁠—”

  He pressed a finger to his lips. Trust, he mouthed.

  She swallowed and tried to process everything. Did she dare trust him? Obviously, he was up to something, but Winston had brought all four of his Russian badass bodyguards today and hired some local police. Did Matt know that?

  Her glance skittered around the outdoor venue like a pinball. Jack, Deke, Hunter, and One-Mile each stood over the supine form of one of Winston’s goons. They’d each taken one down without a scuffle or a sound. When? How? Beat them? Drugged them? Applied some kind of Jedi pressure-point-to-the-neck trick? Madison had no idea. She didn’t know anything—except that her mind was blown.

  The local police lined the perimeter, staring at one another as if trying to decide what they should do and if any laws had been broken. The press watched, almost frozen, seemingly aware this event had gone far off script, but they kept their cameras rolling.

  “He knows nothing,” Winston insisted into the mic. “He’s Madison’s lover with an axe to grind. And grief shredded poor Genie’s grip on reality. She’s fabricating tall tales in order to cope. Don’t believe their lies.”

  Together, Matt, Ethan, and Nash formed a protective circle around Genie, towering over the senator while warning Montrose away with a glare. Matt plucked the mic back and settled it into Genie’s hands.

  “I’m not insane, and I’m not on any meds,” Genie assured everyone. “Despite how often my husband and the senator suggested that I needed something to alter my mood, as if grieving the death of my only son is somehow unnatural. But back to my story…”

  What more did Genie intend to spill? She and Matt exchanged a glance. Then he stepped up and squeezed the woman’s hand. “It’s a story you’ll want to hear before you vote.”

  “He’s right. It wasn’t an accident that killed my son. It was Todd Pershing.”

  The audience gasped collectively.

  Madison’s heart leapt to her throat. Holy shit… Genie wasn’t just telling secrets; she was going scorched earth.

  “I can prove that, by the way, thanks to Madison, who accidentally witnessed my son’s murder and had the presence of mind to film it. Actually, I’ve cobbled together proof of a lot of crimes, like a human smuggling operation across the border to import sex slaves for entitled, powerful people in this town. When Brent balked to Todd about the terrible things they were doing to other human beings and tried to end their business arrangement, the bastard cut him down—literally. There was no car accident, just Todd with a knife and a determination to stop Brent from talking.”

  Madison’s jaw dropped. Shock ricocheted through her system. That was the reason Todd had killed Brent in cold blood?

  “But a picture is worth a thousand words,” Genie went on. “So instead of me rambling, let me show you. Cover your children’s eyes. This is graphic.”

  Genie pressed a remote, and the screen lit up with images of Brent and Todd together as children—swimming, laughing, playing video games. Dozens of images followed in which the boys got bigger and older. A shot of Brent standing at Todd’s left elbow during their wedding swamped Madison with memories. The next, a video rolled, showing Todd tossing bills at a girl who looked barely legal. She got on her knees between Brent’s feet, eyes wide and wary, as he unzipped his pants and led his cock to her waiting mouth while Todd shouted, “Happy birthday, man! Live a little and spew all over her face.”

  Brent recoiled. “That’s degrading.”

  “Who cares? She’s a whore.”

  The crowd gasped. Angry murmurs started. She could almost feel the voters’ outrage at Todd.

  There was no one more deserving.

  “Stop rolling!” Todd shouted to the bank of press cameras, then lunged for the remote in Genie’s hand. “Someone cut that feed and disconnect that fucking computer!”

  Matt stepped between him and Genie. “No one here will end the video. When your grandmother put Genie in charge of overseeing the production for tonight, this brave woman made sure we had the right people in the right places. Of course, she also made a Pershing-approved, full-of-lies version. But does anyone want to see that?”

  The collective audience began shouting and booing.

  Genie thumbed the remote again. More pictures filled the screen—Todd and Brent in Cabo, in Winston’s office drinking scotch, on Christmas morning checking out Todd’s sweet new Porsche. Then another video started, and Madison instantly recognized the footage from her cellphone of Todd yelling that Brent couldn’t pin everything on him while shoving him against the shower wall and slitting his throat.

  The crowd gasped again, now shocked—and angrier. Some at the front rushed the stage, yelling that Todd deserved to go to prison. The police began to close in.

  Madison blinked. This was happening. It was really happening. The scene was like a fantasy, but she’d never dared to imagine it would come true.

  Todd lunged at Matt, who sidestepped him with a sneer. Her husband was a bully, not used to anyone pushing back. That spoiled shithead, who hadn’t heard no enough as a child and didn’t respect boundaries because he’d never had any, roared before he threw a punch at Matt.

  That was her husband’s first mistake. His violence gave Matt the green light to defend himself. He clocked Todd with a mean right hook to the face that sent his head whipping over his shoulder. Her soon-to-be-ex-husband staggered back, looking shell-shocked and dazed.

  As Brent’s body slumped to the ground on the screen, Madison zipped her gaze to Genie. The woman sent her a vague shrug and a smile. Yes, she knew the implications of her actions. No, she didn’t care if Winston or any of the other Pershings came for blood. She had nothing left to lose.

  Madison took her hand and squeezed. “How?”

  She didn’t ask why. This was Genie’s revenge, and she was enjoying every sweet, sweet moment.

  The older woman turned a misty gaze to Matt. “This guy. With his help, I found all the information I needed among Brent’s effects. Watch this.” Then she lifted the mic back to her mouth. “Folks, this is just the beginning. Besides the fact Todd cheats on his wife, the rumors that he likes to seduce underage girls? They’re true. He had a child by a seventeen-year-old Georgetown freshman a few years back. But she’s hardly the only one.”

  The screen filled with the image of Todd gripping a girl’s chin with biting fingers while her small mouth wrapped around his cock. The upper part of her face was blurred to protect her identity, but the tears rolling down her cheeks toward her stretched, bruised lips were unmistakable.

  “She consented!” Todd insisted, the mic picking up his protest enough to carry through the speakers.

  A familiar man jogged out from stage left then and yanked Todd back with a firm hand over his rattling mouth.

  Zy. He acknowledged Madison with a bob of his head—and secured her husband’s arms behind his back. Once, the operative had used and left her. She’d blamed guys like him for tanking her self-esteem and setting off the chain of events that led to her disastrous marriage. But Zy had only promised her pleasure. Rather than accepting that, she had taken his dismissal personally, then looked for another man to make her feel better. Instead, she should have found validation within herself.