Jane nodded, but something fierce still simmered in her eyes. "I won't go looking for trouble. But I won't be afraid of him either."
That part, at least, she meant.
No matter how tangled the consequences might become, for that one moment earlier in the day, she had felt powerful.
Not as someone's wife, not as a pawn in political circles—but as a woman standing up for herself, and for others too afraid to speak.
She didn't regret it.
In fact, there was a part of her that was proud.
She had seen the flicker of surprise in Ross's eyes, the stunned silence that followed the crack of her palm across his smug face.
For a moment, she had pierced the illusion of invincibility that surrounded him like armor.
But what Jane couldn't know—what no one could've predicted—was how that single act would ripple through her life.
Choices have consequences.
And standing up to Ross Oakley wasn't something the world—or Ross himself—would easily forget.
Her quiet rebellion had started something.
And she would come to regret that night—regret doing something so reckless, so utterly foolish.
At the time, it had seemed like a harmless indulgence, a fleeting moment of passion or perhaps desperation.
But consequences have a way of creeping in quietly, and when they arrive, they seldom knock.
Just one week later, the first blow of misfortune struck.
"Breaking news!" the anchor's voice boomed across every screen in the nation.
"A shocking exposé on Senator Joshua Carlson has rocked the political landscape. Leaked documents and whistleblower testimony have revealed that the senator received illegal kickbacks from multiple city projects during his tenure as mayor years ago."
The screen flashed with headlines in bold red fonts: CORRUPTION SCANDAL EXPLODES | SENATOR CARLSON UNDER FIRE
"According to reliable sources, the total amount in question exceeds 100 million dollars—and that may just be the tip of the iceberg," the reporter continued breathlessly.
"If he could pocket that kind of money as a mere city mayor, just imagine what he's capable of now as a sitting senator. It's horrifying," one political analyst stated during a heated panel discussion.
Social media lit up with fury. News outlets replayed the footage on a loop.
Talk shows ran segments with headlines like 'The Fall of a Golden Boy' and 'America's Trust Betrayed Again'.
"These politicians are just disgusting," one viral comment read. "They smile in your face while emptying your pockets behind closed doors."
Protests began forming outside government buildings.
Carlson's office released a carefully worded denial, but the damage had already been done.
Sponsors pulled out, allies turned silent, and opponents pounced like wolves.
And as the nation watched the scandal unfold in real-time, she sat alone, staring at the television screen, her heart sinking.
She had trusted him. Believed in him. Defended him.
And now, all she could think was: What has he done?
"No... this isn't true. This can't be right." Jane stood frozen in front of the television, her hands clutching the edge of the counter as the breaking news continued to play.
"I know my husband. He's as clean as they come. He couldn't have done something like this... not Joshua."
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, disbelief and dread twisting inside her like a storm.
The screen showed his face—her husband's face—next to bold headlines accusing him of corruption, fraud, and betrayal.
It felt surreal, like some terrible nightmare she couldn't wake from.
Without thinking, she grabbed her purse and keys and rushed out the door.
The drive to his office was a blur. Red lights, honking horns, the blur of pedestrians—none of it registered.
Her mind raced with fragments of memories, trying to stitch together any moment, any sign, any indication that something like this could be true.
But there was nothing. Just Joshua, the man she married, the man she loved, who tucked their children into bed, who brought her coffee every morning like clockwork.
When she arrived, the building was swarming with tension.
Reporters hovered near the entrance, waiting like vultures. Inside, the receptionists looked harried, phones ringing off the hook, and voices buzzed in frantic whispers.
Jane made her way to his office. A group of men in suits had already gathered inside—colleagues, fellow lawyers, perhaps even crisis managers.
The door was ajar, and from where she stood, she could hear snatches of tense conversation.
"...evidence is solid..."
"...we need to move fast..."
"...no point denying what's on tape..."
Her heart dropped.
Still, Jane didn't barge in. She refused to make a scene. Instead, she stood quietly in the hallway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her nails digging into her sleeves.
One by one, the men exited, their eyes flickering toward her with a mix of pity and discomfort.
Some nodded politely. Others avoided her gaze altogether.
Finally, the door closed behind the last man, and she stepped inside.
Joshua sat behind his desk, his shoulders slumped, his face paler than she had ever seen it.
He looked up when she entered, and for a brief second, something flickered in his eyes—shame, guilt, maybe even relief.
"Tell me this isn't true," Jane said, her voice hoarse as she stepped closer. "Tell me you've been set up. That this is a smear campaign. That someone wants to ruin you."
Joshua looked down at his hands. They were trembling slightly.
"It was years ago," he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Back when I was still mayor. I thought... I thought I could control it. There was no paper trail. No direct ties. I made sure of it. But whoever leaked this—they had more than documents. They had video. Surveillance. Conversations I didn't even know were being recorded."
He let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it.
"I thought I'd buried the past. That I could live with the choices I made. But now, it's all unraveling. And I've dragged you into it." He looked up at her then, his eyes glassy.
"I'm so sorry, Jane. I let you down."