My pregnant daughter ran into my office, her face covered in fresh b:ruises. Her husband, a beloved local politician, casually strolled in behind her, shutting the door.

“Part 2

For one beautiful second, Grant Voss forgot how to perform.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. The great mayor. The golden son of the city. The man who could cry on command at ribbon cuttings and kiss babies without smearing his makeup.

Silent.

Then rage rushed into his face.

“You’re bluffing.”

I pressed a button on my desk.

The wall screen continue reading …