Page 157 of Treason's Temptation
“Morning.” Fallon sat quietly watching me get settled. “It’s that bad?”
“Victor is capitalizing on Navie’s arrest, and it’s working. Your approval rating has plummeted. We have to act fast, Tre, or there might not be a campaign to save. It might be time to cut the cord. I promise it’s not personal, but you may have to choose between Navie and the election.”
“Leaving Navie isn’t an option.”
“Why not?”
Looking at the ground, my gaze drifted up to Fallon’s face. She froze, eyes wide, struggling to comprehend, then it clicked. Suddenly, we were back in my dorm room. Fallon came over to drag me to a Kappa Nu Theta party, but my face looked like it did right now. It turned out Courtney was just late and not actually pregnant, unlike Navie.
“Jesus, Tre,” she sighed, falling on the sofa.
“I can’t abandon her. Not now, so we have to work with what we’ve got. Spin this shit somehow to point out the corruption we’re trying to protect the city from.”
“That’s a good angle. Leverage the people’s support in Navie’s favor. If this can happen to her, it can happen to them,” Fallon nodded, agreeing with her thoughts, “I’ll see if I can get you on Straight To The Pointe tonight.”
“Thanks, Fallon. I have a meeting with Mayor Abbott in an hour.”
“You might not need it. What is Sloane doing on TV?” she asked, grabbing the remote to turn the volume up.
She sat on the couch, in a crimson wrap dress, dabbing her face with a tissue while the host, Ashley, watched. Sloane Bishop could command a room with her presence alone, and right now she had the entire city in the palm of her hand.
“It’s hard watching your child sit in jail for something they didn’t do. Navie isn’t a murderer. If anything, she’s a victim of politics and powerful families trying to protect their own.”
“Which family is trying to protect their own?”
“Which one isn’t?” Sloane retorted, and Fallon cut her eyes at me.
The reporter leaned in, too eager. “Ms. Bishop, there have been questions raised about yourownpast—accusations of fraud, manipulation, and using wealthy men for financial gain. How do you respond to people who say your daughter learned from you?”
Sloane’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it brightened. “Isn’t it interesting how when a woman is strong, resourceful, and refuses to be a victim, she’s called a con artist? Men make a fortune on charm, and they’re celebrated. A woman does the same, and suddenly she’s a criminal.”
I leaned back, jaw tight. This wasn’t about Navie’s defense, this was Sloane auditioning for sympathy and control.
“What matters now is my daughter. She’s being painted as a villain because the son of Madison Pointe’s golden family ismissing.” Sloane smirked, trying to create doubt.
The reporter pressed, “Why has the nature of Navie’s past relationship with Lorenzo Strathmore Jr been such a guarded secret?”
The camera zoomed in on her face, every angle calculated, every word a dagger dipped in sugar. I wanted to snatch her ass through the screen, wanted to silence her smirk, “That was avery dark time in Navie’s life that she’d prefer to keep separate from her future.”
It was the last thing I heard, rushing out of my office. Every performance had a price, and the bill always came due. On the way to the Mayor’s office, my burner rang, and it wasn’t June or Ward. They were the only people who had the number, which only meant one thing.
“It didn’t have to come to this!” Winston erupted the minute I answered, “I offered you a one-way ticket into office after Victor’s term, instead you kidnap your fuckin’ sister.”
I laughed at him, desperately trying to leverage a relationship I didn’t give a fuck about.
“I’m my father’s son. I’ll do whatever to get what I want.”
“Don’t force my hand, son. Let Selah go.”
“Selah isn’t coming home until Navie does, so make the call and stop wasting my fuckin’ time.”
“Where is she? How do I know she’s okay?”
“She’s aight for now, but she’s with some real trench babies that love to shoot. Might wanna get off my line and make some calls.”
“You’re hatred for me is going to get someone you love hurt,” Winston sneered.
“Whatever nigga, call me back when you’re ready to talk business.” I hung up because he wasn’t talking about shit I wanted to hear.
