Page 22 of Love Arranged

“Does anyone want to expand on their answer?” the volunteer asks.

The elderly man with five different pens inside his front pocket readjusts his glasses. “Trevor Ludlow is the best choice—even if he’s new to the job. His family has run the city council since it was founded, so I trust him to uphold our values and traditions.”

A woman with pink stripes in her hair nods. “And he’s one of us.”

People easily forget or ignore how I spent the first decade of my life growing up in this town until I became an orphan.

Another man in his early forties talks next. “Yeah, I agree. There’s something about Lorenzo that I don’t trust.”

Next to me, Willow scribbles on her notepad, jotting everyone’s points down as if we haven’t heard them countless times before.

“What do you mean?” someone calls from the corner of the table.

“Doesn’t anyone find it strange how he came out of nowhere two years ago and decided to run for mayor? It’s not as if he has deep ties to the town, and he isn’t like Trevor, who has a legacy he wants to protect, so what’s his deal?”

Revenge. Simple as that.

I look forward to dismantling life as the Ludlows know it, and it all starts with removing them from their century-long position of power. For a family who values their pride, reputation, and social status, losing the election will be a huge blow they probably won’t recover from.

“And what about a family? I heard Lorenzo hates kids, so it’s not like he plans on settling down here,” the woman with pink hair adds.

“He’d have to be open to dating to want that,” the woman I rejected says while looking at the mirror.

Safe to assume I’ll never get her vote.

“Maybe it’s for the best. We don’t need him bringing hisfamily’s mafia business here,” the forty-year-old man with a blue ball cap on says.

Another person chimes in with “Oh, I heard about that. Do you think that’s why he sold his shares of the family company?”

“He did?” someone else asks.

“Yeah. A random article I read online mentioned how he and his uncle would get in arguments during board meetings. Nearly came to blows once.”

Yes, while thatisaccurate, I would’ve put up with my uncle if it weren’t for how he hid the truth about my parents’ accident. After I found out what really happened, I quit my job as the director of operations, sold my Vittori Holdings shares, and walked away without looking back.

A quiet member of the group speaks next. “Apparently his uncle hired a hitman to kill Lorenzo’s father, which is why they never found the person responsible for the hit-and-run accident.”

Yet another lie.

“I always thought it was strange how the Vittoris mostly kept to themselves. Lorenzo’s mother was nice and involved in the church, but there was always something…off about his father,” the same man in a ball cap says.

If byoffhe means diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder, then fuck him very much. My father was a good man, although his struggle with OCD could be downright debilitating—a daily mental battle I’m all too familiar with thanks to my own diagnosis.

I want to barge in there and sayNo, I don’t hate childrenandNo, I’mnot involved in the mafia, although I can’t say the same formy uncle and cousins who are in the casino business—a fact the Ludlow family likes to remind everyone all too often.

My teeth grind together, and I reach inside my pants pocket and pull out my lucky dice. I roll the glass cubes between my fingers, the familiarity of the indentations soothing me until I’m no longer seething.

The volunteer scrambles to get the session back in order, but the focus group quickly goes from gathering useful intel to people making the most inaccurate assumptions about me.

After spending the last year campaigning on ideas like preserving the town’s historic character and improving local services for the youth and elderly townspeople alike, it’s frustrating to be typecast as something I’m not.

If I don’t find a way to improve my image and give people the confidence to vote for me, I’ll never be able to catch up to Trevor Ludlow. And if I don’t do it soon, my nightmare scenario will quickly become an unbearable reality.

3

LILY

When I get home after my walk from hell—seriously, I question if my pride was worth the extra cardio—I take a cold shower before heading to our garage.