Tobias's POV
The campaign office empties around me as I pack up the final donor reports, exhaustion settling into my bones like lead.
Three fundraising events in two days, each one a careful performance of confidence and vision while my mind stays fixed on the one person I can't publicly claim.
Ava's been pulling away again this past week, retreating into professional distance that feels like ice water in my veins. Polite good mornings. Efficient responses to campaign requests.
No stolen glances, no coded texts, no moments where she lets her guard down enough for me to see the woman who fell apart in my arms just days ago.
I don't understand what changed. After Veronica's unexpected visit last week, something shifted in Ava's demeanor.
She's been avoiding private moments, timing her arrivals and departures to minimize contact, rebuilding walls I thought we'd torn down months ago.
"Are you heading home?" Jordan appears in my office doorway, jacket slung over his shoulder.
"Soon. Just finishing these donor projections."
He lingers in the doorway, clearly wanting to say something. Jordan's been my campaign manager for three years—long enough to read my moods better than I'd prefer.
"Can I speak freely?" he asks finally.
I set down my pen, recognizing his tone. "Always."
"Whatever's happening between you and Ava, you should figure it out soon."
He steps into the office, closing the door behind him. "And before you deny it, don't. I've been watching you two dance around each other for months. The question isn't whether something's going on—it's whether you're going to do something about it."
The direct confrontation catches me off guard. "Jordan…"
"She makes you alive again," he continues, cutting off my protest. "For the first time since I've known you, you seem like a man instead of just a candidate. When she's around, you actually smile. Real smiles, not the political ones."
I lean back in my chair, studying my campaign manager's earnest expression. "Even if that were true, the complications…"
"Fuck the complications." His vehemence surprises us both. "Sorry, but seriously, Tobias. You've spent ten years building this campaign, sacrificing everything personal for political advancement. When do you get to be happy?"
"After the election."
"What if there is no after? What if you win the governorship and discover that success without someone to share it with feels empty?" He shakes his head. "Some things are worth risking the campaign for. The question is whether she's one of them."
His words echo in my mind during the drive home, mingling with my growing concern about Ava's withdrawal. Maybe Jordan's right. Maybe I need to force a conversation, demand honesty about whatever's driving her away.
The estate's windows glow warmly against the evening darkness as I pull into the driveway, but the illusion of domestic peace shatters the moment I step through the front door.
Chloe bursts from the living room like a hurricane, tears streaming down her face, her usual composure completely shattered. She nearly collides with me in the hallway, her breath coming in ragged sobs.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" I reach for her, but she pulls away.
"Mom's a terrible person," she chokes out, her voice thick with hurt and rage. "I can't… I won't…"
"Chloe, slow down. Tell me what happened."
But she's already fleeing toward the stairs, taking them two at a time while her sobs echo through the house. "I can't even look at her right now!"
Her bedroom door slams with enough force to rattle the fixtures, leaving me standing in the hallway with ice forming in my stomach.
Whatever upset her this much involves Veronica, and nothing good ever comes from my ex-wife reducing our daughter to tears.
I enter the living room to find exactly what I expected and dreaded.
Veronica sits in my leather armchair like she owns it, perfectly composed in a cream cashmere sweater, not a hair out of place despite having just destroyed our daughter's emotional equilibrium.
Tyler lounges on the couch beside her, but there's nothing relaxed about his posture. His eyes lock onto mine with dark hostility that immediately signals danger, his usual sullen resentment transformed into something sharper, more focused.
"What did you say to Chloe?" I demand without preamble.
"Nothing she didn't need to hear," Veronica replies smoothly, examining her manicured nails with deliberate casualness. "Simply some observations about lifestyle choices and how they might affect the campaign."
The euphemism makes my hands clench into fists. "What observations?"
"Oh, you know how dramatic she gets about her little... preferences. I merely suggested that flaunting certain relationships might not be politically advantageous during such a crucial time."
Red floods my vision. "You went after her sexuality? You attacked my daughter for being gay?!"
"I presented realistic concerns about public perception."
"Get out." The words come out as cold as winter steel. "Both of you. Now."
"Dad…" Tyler starts, but I cut him off.
"What are you even doing here, Tyler? Besides letting your mother poison you with more of her manipulative bullshit?"
I step closer, noting how they both tense. "Actually, don't answer that. I can tell from your faces that you're plotting something. The question is what."
Veronica's smile sharpens to razor edges. "We're simply concerned about family stability during this critical campaign period. Some behaviors could prove... problematic if they became public knowledge."
"Family concerns," Tyler echoes, his voice carrying an undercurrent of menace that makes my skin crawl.
They're enjoying this. Whatever they've discovered, whatever weapon they think they're wielding, they're savoring the power it gives them over me.
"I want you both out of my house," I say quietly, the kind of controlled tone that makes experienced politicians nervous. "Now. And Veronica, if you ever speak to Chloe that way again…"
"You'll what?" She stands gracefully, smoothing her sweater. "Really, Tobias, there's no need for threats between family. We're all on the same side here."
"Like hell we are."
She glides toward the door with Tyler trailing behind her, but pauses at the threshold to deliver her parting shot.
"Do give my regards to your staff," she says sweetly. "Especially that hardworking intern of yours. The one who stays so late at the office. Such dedication to the cause."
The way she says 'intern' makes my blood run cold. The knowing smile, the calculated emphasis—she knows about Ava. Somehow, she knows.
The front door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving me standing in the sudden silence of my own home, the weight of impending catastrophe settling over me like a burial shroud.
Upstairs, I can hear Chloe crying behind her locked door. Outside, my ex-wife is orchestrating some kind of attack using my own son as ammunition.
And somewhere across town, the woman I love is pulling away from me when I need her most desperately.
All I want is to drive to Ava's apartment, to lose myself in her arms while this carefully constructed world crumbles around us. But even that sanctuary feels like it's slipping away, one more casualty of the impossible situation we've created.
Everything is spiraling out of control, and I don't know how to stop it.