The Plot

In the upscale ambiance of the restaurant, the table was set with representatives from various media companies, each one aware of the stakes involved in today's meeting. As I handed out envelopes—with sums substantial enough to buy small homes—most around the table accepted them without hesitation, greedily pocketing their new fortunes.

However, one woman, Mrs. Potts, hesitated, her integrity making her stand out. I noted her resistance; it marked her as a potential private source I could rely on for unbiased opinions.

"Won't I get indigestion if I eat this?" Mrs. Potts quipped, her skepticism palpable as she eyed the envelope I had placed before her.

"It's just pocket money, Mrs. Potts. Who picks a fight because of a little extra change?" I responded, trying to lighten the mood as I sipped my water, watching her deliberate.

"Guess that's true," she conceded, albeit reluctantly, sliding the envelope into her purse as the others watched, perhaps judging, perhaps envious of her initial resistance.

"In return, let's stop badmouthing Chen Construction and speculating whose fault it is," I proposed, shifting the conversation to part of the real agenda of the meeting.

"What?" another executive interjected, clearly taken aback by the sudden shift.

"Understand my position. In order to further clean house, I need to acquire them," I explained, laying out my strategy plainly for all at the table.

Mrs. Potts sighed, her voice a mix of resignation and insight as she looked down at her bribe. "As expected, this is rat poison," she muttered, acknowledging the corrupt nature of the transaction we were all part of.

"Let's cheers!" A voice from behind the dividers demanded.

I watched with a hint of amusement as the representatives at my table, initially content with their bribes, turned their focus sharply towards the adjacent table, their journalistic instincts kicking in at the sound of political intrigue filtering through the thin divider.

Good. Their attention was in the right place.

"You already put the money in your purse. Let's not act high and mighty now," I said to Mrs. Potts with a smirk, raising my glass in a mock toast as I encouraged everyone to indulge themselves. "Today, you guys can loosen your belts and drink and eat to your hearts' content!"

From behind the screen, another boisterous voice proclaimed, "After the voting ends in two days, our candidate will become the next governor of the city!" The sudden declaration caused a stir at our table; the previously jovial atmosphere turned sharply attentive.

"Who's that? Opposition supporters?" I feigned ignorance, well aware of who was seated beyond our view, thanks to a timely tip from Travis.

The media heads around me leaned closer, their ears practically twitching like antennas dialed to a specific frequency. "Campaign workers?" one speculated softly.

"Shhh, I'm familiar with the voice!" another whispered, a finger pressed to their lips.

I attempted to redirect their attention. "Don't mind it and let's just eat." However, my suggestion was met with a collective gesture for silence, their interest piqued beyond casual curiosity.

"Once the election is over, I'll never forget the prices you all paid with your hard work," the unseen speaker continued, his words carrying a tone of gratitude mixed with solemnity.

"You're sure Damien Quinn will be governor, right?" another voice inquired, cautious yet hopeful.

"What do you take me for, a shmuck?" The response came loud and clear, the familiarity of the voice unmistakable—it was Mayor Matteo Lubrano himself.

A ripple of shock passed through the table; even as I maintained a facade of calm, inside I was calculating the potential fallout. Three of the executives had already discreetly begun recording the conversation, capturing every word of the potentially explosive dialogue leaking through the partition. This unexpected turn of events could tilt the scales in a myriad of ways, and I was perfectly positioned to leverage it.

The revelations spilling from the mayor's unguarded conversation kept coming, each more shocking than the last, casting a pall over my table as everyone listened with bated breath. The atmosphere was charged, each participant keenly aware of the goldmine of scandal unfolding just beyond the thin partition.

"We really think you should take over as governor—" one voice attempted, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

"I'm the one turning our candidate into the governor! What do you mean take over?" Mayor Lubrano snapped back, his tone acidic with irritation.

"Listen, there are rumors—" the first voice tried again, hesitant.

"What rumours?!" Lubrano interrupted sharply.

"The bribery?" the second voice ventured, clarifying. "There's a rumor that you paid off public officials for your kids and the half senate is in your pocket. If it's true then—"

"Are you stupid? Do you think I'd still have the same amount of power if I was on their same level? Doing things by the books is for commoners, it's better where I am now," Lubrano boasted, his voice thick with arrogance.

As he continued to drunkenly divulge the manipulations and control he exerted over senators, including a stunning confession about forging Senator Harrison's cancer diagnosis to sway public sympathy, the journalists at my table were scribbling notes and recording every word. The mayor's indiscretion painted a vivid picture of corruption and deceit, providing ample ammunition for a series of explosive stories.

"What do you have to do to get a senator in your pocket?" the first voice inquired, eager for more.

"Dozens of things. I tell you that cancer diagnosis worked better than I thought. The real selling point is sympathy," Lubrano bragged, further incriminating himself as the reporters' devices captured his every word.

"Why did his third son join the military instead of joining the campaign?" the second voice asked, digging deeper into the mayor's sordid dealings.

"Easy, because that's not Damien's son, so he's staying completely out of the way," Lubrano laughed, revealing yet another bombshell. "He was ready to get rid of that kid for a long time anyway."

"An affair child?" the first voice pressed, intrigued.

"He had an affair with someone at the Chinese embassy," Lubrano disclosed casually. "The mother was so glad the child could be taken care of in a rich family that she never got the birth certificate signed and just gave up her child."

As the gravity of the mayor's revelations sank in—affairs, illegitimate children, forged medical documents—my table couldn't hide their agitation. Everyone was visibly shaken by the extent of corruption and personal scandals being laid bare.

"Will you two calm down?" I whispered to the visibly anxious executives across the table, feigning a shared interest in the drama unfolding, while inside, I marveled at the jackpot of information Travis had led me to. This was not just a political bombshell—it was a narrative that would redefine city politics and perhaps even national perceptions.

"How can we calm down when something like this is happening?"

"Is this real?" another journalist whispered, rifling through her notes, her voice barely a breath. Her list of bullet points detailing each corrupt act mentioned by the mayor grew rapidly.

"Just ignore this, if this explodes tomorrow we all know it'll turn the election upside down," I whispered back, sowing the seeds of a major political upheaval.

"Of course, but this is a big corruption case," whispered another woman at the table, her eyes wide with the gravity of our discovery.

"If people find out the mayor is the one in charge and the local government is full of corruption, and the new governor has an illegitimate child, he'll lose more than half his vote demographic. Game over," Mrs. Potts murmured, understanding the potential fallout.

"He's a wealthy man from a wealthy conglomerate. Let's just cover it up," I suggested, testing their journalistic integrity.

"How could I call myself a reporter if I did that?" another head of the table retorted, indignation coloring his tone. "There's something here to inform the voters about, and it's the public's choice to decide!"

"By any chance, are you pushing yourselves this hard because of the crumbs you'll get after publishing the scoop?" I baited them, curious about their motivations.

"What crumbs?" another asked, puzzled by my implication.

"You really want to act? Fine!" I put on my best smirk, leaning into the role of the provocateur. "If this article gets out, it's certain that the media company that breaks it first will be the major contributor to Benjamin Carter's election. You think his campaign will stay silent? Won't they just push their ads even more? You may even get a year's worth of work all at once, don't you think?"

The wheels were turning in their heads now, the potential gains from publishing this scandal becoming too tempting to ignore. The bribe money suddenly made all the sense in the world.

"So the one who publishes first..." one of them started to say, realization dawning.

"Will become very fortunate," I finished for him, my voice just loud enough for all to hear. Though my plan was to ultimately choose Mrs. Potts for her integrity, the race was now on.

"I'll treat you to a nice drink next time, Mr. Todd," the plump one at the edge of the table announced, standing to leave with a nod in my direction.

As if awakening from a trance, the remaining six journalists uttered quick goodbyes and rushed out, each eager to break the news first.

Mission accomplished. By tomorrow, Mr. Carter would be leading the polls as the only viable candidate, and my reign over the city would begin. If I played my cards right, I could own the state like a tycoon, not unlike how Disney owns Florida. The thought of the coming celebration brought a wicked smile to my face.