From Political Wife To Power Player

ld kiss Hamilton goodbye, watch him leave for another day of campaigning, another day of lies. Each night I would greet him with a smile, listen to his in

ach event across town, a photo opportunity with local youth groups. He had messaged me earlier, a

, in the luxurious penthouse suite above his campaign office, a place he often used for "private consultations." I knew, because DeepSta

, I watched. The building, Hamilton's campaign headquarters, was a hive of activity. Do

voluntary gesture. He wasn't alone. Kalie Villarreal, looking far too young and far too pleased with herself, was by his side, carrying a stack of "urgent" campaign reports. She wa

ltering for a split second before he plastered it back on. He was talking to someone, his voice low, urgent. I watched his face. It shifted, a flash of annoyance, t

uised as a pair of innocuous sunglasses. I put them on, adjusting th

e middle of... very important meetings." There was a pause, a muffled murmur from the other end. "Oh, the headache again? My poor

re-arranged signal, a fabricated excuse to test his loyalty, to

hat went directly to the penthouse. Hamilton gave a quick, almost furtive gla

ring wheel, my knuckles white. A cold, hard knot formed in my stomach, not of sadness, but of pure, distilled rage.

tions, had given me an intimate knowledge of this city's underbelly. There was a service entr

alley reeked of stale garbage and exhaust fumes. Not the glamorous backdrop for a mayoral candidate's affair. I found the unmarked door, a heavy steel slab. It was k

My mind was a whirlwind of memories: Hamilton's promises, his charm, the life we had built. All of it, a lie. A carefully constructed illusion for his own

breath coming in ragged gasps. Not from exertion, but from the raw, unadulterated pain that had finally broken through m

burner phone. I dialed Hami

ined. I could hear a faint, high-pitched giggle in the background,

oice, "my head... it's gotten much worse. I fe

th feigned concern. "Oh, Caroline. My poor love. I'm so sorry. But you know I'm in the m

feel faint. I might... I might need to go to the hospital." That did it. T

nything drastic. I'll... I'll be right there. I'll wrap things up here. Give me fifteen minutes. Max. Just... stay calm. Don't call anyone

barely audible. "Ju

ion, then Kalie's voice, raised in an angry protest. "Wh

you know. She can be... fragile. I'll be back. Soon." The lie was so smooth, so pra

evator chimed, and I heard his hurried footsteps fade down the hallway. He was

lightly disheveled, clung to her curves. She looked like a woman who had just been abruptly interrupted in the throes of passion. She lea

t a drama queen. As if he actually cares." She ran a hand through her hair, then looked up, her eyes narrowing. She caught her reflection

the vintage Tiffany bracelet Hamilton had given me on our tenth wedding anniversary, claiming it was a family h

a' s high school guidance counselor. The "mentor" Bryanna had been raving about, the "coolest adult ever." The wo

yanna's confidante, her role model. Bryanna had admired her, idolized her, and been complicit in this monstrous lie. S

Hamilton's late nights, her sudden coolness towards me, the subtle eye rolls when I offered

ank against the cold wall of the stairwell, my legs unable to support me. The pain was unbearable, a thousand tiny shards of glass piercing my

broken heart, something hard and cold began to glow. This wasn't just about betrayal anymore. This was about a

d been filled with tears, were dry and sharp. The world outside the penthouse door, the world of

o DeepStateDiaries. "I know everything," I said, my voice eerily calm, emotionless. "And I have a plan. I need every

for years. "Prepare the divorce papers," I told her, my voice st

onsulting firm. "I need you to clear my schedule," I instructed, "and then I need you to start compiling a multimedia presen

ented, Caroline?" she as

cruel smile touched my lips. "At the election-eve rally, of course. Live. On

professional, understood. This wasn't just abou

oice grim, but with an undercurrent

chosen to play dirty. And now, I would s

rt with their p