Page 101 of Velvet Corruption

Rosie was on Julian’s shoulders, waving. I smiled, the knots in my chest easing. The energy shifted, lifted, carried me. My hands stopped shaking. My pulse steadied.

The nerves were still there, sharp and bright, but they didn’t control me. Not anymore. I was ready.

More ready than I’d ever been.

I watched the crowd, their faces hopeful and expectant and loud.

The crowd was still cheering. My name, loud and relentless, echoing across the plaza like it actually belonged to someone who knew what the hell she was doing.

I stood at the edge of the stage, fingers curled around the podium to steady myself. Cameras flashed. Faces blurred. I was supposed to pull out the speech—the one Alek and I spent two weeks refining, the one we rehearsed until I could say every line in my sleep.

But I didn’t move.

I kept thinking about Rosie. About how she’d fallen asleep in my lap two nights ago with Frozen playing in the background and a glue stick in her hand. About how I’d almost missed bedtime again tonight. And what if this meant missing more? What if this meant letting her down in ways I couldn’t even see yet?

What if Julian was right?

I could hear Alek’s voice in my head telling me to breathe, to focus, to take the win. But it didn’t feel like a win. Not yet. Not while there was still so much to prove. So many people waiting for me to fuck it up.

This wasn’t the finish line. It was the start of the longest fight I’d ever signed up for.

And somehow, in all the noise, the thought that cut through clearest wasn’t about policy or power or the Callahans’ looming threat.

It was: I hope Rosie doesn’t learn to hate me while I’m doing this.

I hope Kieran isn’t waiting somewhere…still lurking, biding his time until he destroys me.

I took a breath, steadied my voice, and leaned in. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for believing in me. Now let’s get to work.”

I looked at the words, the neatly typed lines on crisp paper, and they felt wrong. They felt too perfect, too rehearsed for the magnitude of what was happening.

My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd. My hands shook. My mouth went dry. The city waited. They waited for me to speak, to say something, to say anything. But for the first time, I didn’t know if I could.

But now, standing here, it felt too neat, too rehearsed, too small for what this moment actually was. I let the paper drop and spoke from the gut.

I stepped up to the podium and took a breath, scanning the crowd like I might find an escape hatch. No luck. Just flashbulbs. Shouting. Cheers. And somewhere in the back of my mind,Rosie’s little voice saying Mami, we won!

I adjusted the mic.

“First—I need to thank my team. Alek, my campaign manager, and of course the volunteers who gave up their weekends and weeknights to knock doors, pass out flyers, keep me sane—this campaign would not exist without you.”

I could see Alek in the wings, hands folded, shoulders tight. He’d coached me through this a hundred times, but right now, it was just me. He grinned, and I thought I saw tears sparkling in his eyes.

“This campaign wasn’t about me,” I said. “It was about all of us. About the kind of Boston we want to build. Safer. Fairer. Honest.”

I saw someone near the front raise a fist. I almost laughed. I was in a bathrobe twelve hours ago.

“I know what it’s like to feel like no one’s listening,” I said. “I know what it’s like to be scared. To feel like the system is rigged against you. And I ran because I believe we deserve better. Boston deserves leadership that protects the people who actually live here—not the ones pulling strings from behind the scenes.”

A beat. My voice wavered just once, but I didn’t let it break.

“I promised to be tough on crime,” I continued, the words sharp now. “And I meant it. But that means all crime. The street-level and the boardroom. The systems that keep people trapped and the men who think they can play kingmaker behind closed doors. That ends now.”

The crowd roared. For once, I let myself hear it.

“This is just the beginning,” I said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

I stepped back. Alek was already moving, talking to the press, guiding things like he always did.

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