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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.
That was all we needed.
Grant did not understand yet. He thought one video could be spun. One bruise could be questioned. One woman could be smeared.
He had built his career on that math.
But I had spent decades studying men who survived scandals. I knew their tricks before they used them. Deny. Discredit. Distract. Flood the zone with doubt.
