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Chapter 47: Policy of Truth


Emily and Amanda sat across from Olivia outside a coffee shop in downtown Montauk. Olivia started her tape recorder then wrote notes on her pad of paper.

"Emily, I'm glad you decided to be part of the article. Amanda mentioned how much you value your privacy. So, what changed?"

"Amanda mentioned the numerous articles you'd written about her family's past. And I just had to jump at the chance to talk about the new life she'd made for herself and her new family."

That was partly the reason she agreed. Once Amanda showed Emily the letters from David Olivia had in her possession it made Emily curious. Emily didn't know how many letters her father had written her in his time in prison, she knew over the years these letters had been passed around, sold and used by the news, journalists and reporters. She'd made it her mission to buy all of them, and she thought she had; obviously not.

"Emily's part of my family too," Amanda squeezed her shoulder and smiled warmly, which Emily returned.

Emily didn't want to make this all about the letters. She was glad to be doing the interview with Amanda not telling her what to say or do unlike the other times she had an interview. This time Emily was working off script. Olivia asked questions about their friendship in addition to touchy questions about David Clarke. An hour passed and the interview was finished.

"Thank you both for your time," Olivia said shaking both of their hands.

"Thank you it was a lot of fun," Amanda grabbed her ringing phone from her purse. "Baby duty calls," she stepped away from the table to take the call from Jack.

"Amanda, I'll be right there," Emily said.

Emily turned to Olivia as she put away her equipment. Emily observed Olivia, in asking questions, he had a sort of calmness and observing eye that made her more suited to detective work then journalism. The reported slung her messenger bag on her shoulder, then strolled to the trash can to toss her bagel wrappers and empty coffee cup.

"That was a great interview," Emily said. "I'm thrilled to read the interview once it's published. Amanda's lived an incredible life."

"You two have great chemistry. Hard to believe you've only met this year, it's like you've known each other your whole lives. I hope you like the article once it's published."

Olivia's phone beeped.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a busy day," she rushed, before walking off.

Emily wasn't so easily deterred. She needed those letters. She caught up to the reporter.

"I know you busy but, I just need a moment of your time. Amanda, she mentioned that you own letters from her father, the ones you'd given her mean the world to her. I'd love to purchase them on her behalf, how much are you asking for them?"

"They're not for sale."

Emily played the sympathy card.

"Look, you and I both know it's wrong to keep those letters. Those are the personal conversations between Amanda and her dad. Don't you think she'd want to read them? What do you have to gain by keeping the letters?"

Olivia paused and turned to her and said accusingly.

"You seem more interested in these letters than Amanda does. You did say that you take great pride in helping those in need. I'm sure befriending Amanda Clarke helps your perfect, humanitarian image. Buying her home, being her son's godmother, you're profiting off Amanda Clarke's life."

Emily glared at the reporter. She couldn't stand it when someone was accusing her of using Amanda in that way. She promised herself and Amanda she would not use Amanda as puppet any longer.

"Don't twist my words or the facts. I'm not profiting off Amanda. Everything I've done for Amanda has been for her benefit. I'm trying to preserve and honor the Clarke family's legacy."

Emily wished she didn't say that last part. Olivia shot her an accusing stare, hard eyes lighting up, fascinated to hear this newly discovered information.

"Honor? Well, you must believe those conspiracy theorists that David Clarke was innocent."

Emily held her gaze, keeping herself from becoming too attached.

"Well, I believe in questioning my sources. Not every story in the news is true."

Olivia looked down at Emily's wrist briefly, eying her tattoo. Instinctively, Emily pulled her sleeve down. The reporter held Emily's challenging gaze.

"Nice talking to you Miss Thorne."

With a triumphant smirk, the reporter continued down the sidewalk. Emily walked down the sidewalk till she reached her car.

"What'd she say?" Amanda asked, once Emily was in the passenger seat of the car.

"Same story."

"I told you she's set on keeping those letters."

"The question is why. What does she have to gain?"

"She's a reporter. Maybe she's holding onto them to sell on eBay." Amanda explained as she drove out of the parking lot. Emily turned out the window watching Olivia walk to her car.

"I don't trust her."

"No one usually trusts reporters' babe. If you ask me, you're thinking about this too much. We're dealing with a nosy reporter who's done her research." Amanda scoffed. "This isn't another Frank situation."


"I think the last renters had a great sense of style," the Realtor said. "They were design majors if I remember correctly, as you can tell with the minimalistic furniture. Also, the paintings on the wall are famous contemporaries."

"Charming," Emily said.

"It's really nice," Becca agreed.

Two days later, Becca toured the rental apartment in South End with Emily and the Realtor. Becca thought the one bedroom studio apartment was perfect for her. It was wide and spacious with a view of the Charles River. The entertainment room would make a perfect computer lab and inventing studio. And best of all the commute to school was ten minutes by walk.

The three of them stopped in the hallway by the front door, finishing the tour.

"Well, Rebecca, what do you think?" the Realtor asked.

"I love it."

"We can have the movers bring all your things by tomorrow morning and you'll be officially moved in." Emily said.

"Great, I'll get the rental papers together," the Realtor shook her head, realizing she'd left something again. "Uh, I left my briefcase in my car. Let me just go get it."

"Sure," Emily said.

The Realtor walked out the front door, then swung back in, grabbing her purse off the coat rack.

"Don't want to forget my keys," then she walked out the door.

"Jeez, she really is scatter brained," Becca said.

"That she is."

Becca turned back to the space, glad that she'd finally decided to rent this apartment, despite what Genevieve had said. This apartment cost a pretty penny, maybe it was more conservative than the other ones in the area, but Becca never was an overly flashy person. She always preferred functionality and reliability over glitz and style.

"Seriously, I can't believe Genevieve gave up this apartment. It's awesome."

"I'm glad you finally decided on this place, if I didn't push you to make an offer today you wouldn't have gotten it."

Becca stopped playing with the succulent plants hanging near the front door and turned back to Emily.

"Yeah, thanks for the push."

Emily's convincing her and the fact school was fast approaching were prime reasons to get over Genevieve's comments and rent the place. Becca eyed the inn table sitting against the wall.

"Hey, speak of the devil," she grabbed a magazine and showed Emily the cover with a nice and kind looking Genevieve posing for a photo shoot in Seventeen. Becca would have thrown it in the fireplace, but sadly, it was electric. She rolled her eyes at the flashy photo shoot, glanced past Emily, and saw a spider crawling down the wall behind her.

"Ems, don't move. There's a spider behind you."

Becca rolled the magazine into a column, stepped past Emily and smacked the spider dead. She tore the cover off, making sure the side with Genevieve's face was in direct contact with the spider corpse.

"Huh, guess you really are useful."

Becca tossed the paper in the trash with a satisfied smirk. She walked past Emily to the kitchen to wash her hands. Emily followed her and sat at the island while Becca stayed put in the kitchen area.

"So, I heard Genevieve was accepted into the French Institute," Emily said. "I thought she was set on M.I.T."

"Yup, the Bonnard fashion line lives on. I saw her darling place. It screams self-entitled, pompous bitch." Becca tossed the paper towel in the trash can.

"Why are you acting so passive aggressive towards her?"

"How am I being passive aggressive?"

"You killed a spider with her face."

"So?" Becca shrugged.

"Look, ever since early this week you saw Genevieve you've been acting hostile. I know how you like to bottle things up and keep them to yourself, until you explode."

Emily didn't like seeing the teen so visibly upset for so many days. She had a habit of keeping things to herself. Emily couldn't help thinking of herself, secretive and closed off, keeping her problems to herself. Emily knew Becca well, she knew she'd feel better talking about her problems, working through it with the support of her family. She wanted Becca to talk to her about these things. For her to unload her problems on her and confide in her as she had been all summer.

"You know you can talk to me about anything," Emily reminded.

Becca saw the look in Emily's eyes the one that told her she was here to support her, that she was in a safe nonjudgmental place. That she could trust her. She slid into the chair across from her. Bottling things up, apologizing, fixing (avoiding) her own problems, it was all defense mechanisms, self-preservation to survive her childhood. With Emily's support, it was getting easier to open and talk about things she couldn't talk to Dad about. Emily was that female in her life she could talk to anything about.

"Look, it's just Genevieve is just really good at being a snake. She was the one that told me about this apartment. I was surprised she was helping me, since I know for a fact she's never done anything for someone else in her life. And I was right. She told me that I'd love this apartment because I was so used to living in shitty places. You know because my mom and I were Section 8. Then her cronies started to act like total dumb asses asking the stupidest questions. I know I don't belong here. Thanks for the reminder!"

Despite Becca laughing, rolling her eyes and making a joke about herself, Emily could feel the insecurities in her voice. Nolan had done all he could to raise her out of the spotlight but she'd been forced into it. She was inexperienced, ill prepared mentally and emotionally to deal with the pressure fame held — even with her family there to support her — it was all overwhelming.

"What is Genevieve's problem? Why is she so rude to you?"

"I don't know, if you find out, let me know."

"I will find out," Emily stated, promising Becca that she would use her ninja powers to help the teen.

"I have those papers," The Realtor said, appearing at the door.

"Let's make it official," Becca smiled.

Fifteen minutes later, after Emily and Becca read over the rental agreement, Becca signed the dotted line, with Emily as Co-Signer, since it was the teen's apartment. The Realtor gave them a big smile as she put the papers in a folder.

"Congratulations, Rebecca, you're a renter," the Realtor handed her the set of keys.

"Thank you!"

"Now, remember that garbage days are on Thursdays, and you can have your car valet parked in the parking garage…" The Realtor went on to explain to Becca all the ins and outs of the apartment.

Standing and listening to the conversation, Emily's phone beeped. An email alert, the subject, "For my +1", made Emily smirk. She opened the email, to find the guest pass she'd need to accompany Nolan to Victoria's committee meeting.

She scrolled to the bottom of the email, "Thank you for your service!" written above a photo of a smiling Conrad, Victoria and the Sec of State standing in front of the newly refurbished church turned disadvantaged youth center.

The committee was put together with some of the most influential New Yorkers, for a benefit to raise funds for Conrad Grayson's newly established Disadvantaged Youth Center in Brooklyn. Emily felt sick to her stomach knowing this was part of Conrad's plans to take over New York.

She'd been monitoring Grayson Manor, listening in on Conrad and Victoria's conversations. Conrad had been in talks with Charles Starke about resurrecting his public image post the FBI scandal, Emily was waiting to see what self-righteous charity Conrad would create. Conrad was an expert at spinning his negative campaign image and using it for his advantage. But this was a new low. Eying the photo of Victoria, Emily knew the Ice Queen's smile for the camera was all an act.

Emily recalled watching Victoria and Conrad's explosive argument unfold over the security cameras this morning.


That morning, Victoria and Charlotte stepped out the limo in front of Grayson Manor.

"I had a wonderful time today, darling," Victoria smiled.

She and Charlotte had spent all morning together going out for brunch at Tallulah and leisurely strolling for hours through the art museums. It was wonderful to spend time together and relax.

"Me too. I love the Guggenheim."

"So how would you like to spend the rest of the day?"

"Movies and mani-pedis?"

Victoria wrapped her arm around Charlotte's shoulder as they walked to the front door.

"Sounds like fun."

The house staff opened the door and they strolled through the foyer.

"Thank you, Ashley, meet me at headquarters." Conrad's voice echoed from his office to the foyer and Ashley strolled out the office, looking as primp and sultry as ever in her high heels and blue wrap dress.

Wonderful. The Idiots have arrived.

Spotting her, Ashley kept her head up, keeping eye contact to a minimum. Unlike the many other times she'd felt nervous and intimidated by the Ice Queen. Ashley strolled past her as if she was a welcomed guest. She wasn't.

"Ashley."

"Victoria," Ashley said simply, walking past her and out the door.

Victoria didn't let it affect her as Conrad strolled out of his office, briefcase in hand.

"You're back." Victoria stated.

"I was just on my way out," he turned to Charlotte. "Hey, Charlie, where are you off too?"

"We just came back, from brunch and touring Manhattan." Charlotte explained curtly.

"I see. Well, I haven't seen you all month. Why don't you give your old man a hug, huh?"

Charlotte forced a smiled then embraced him. Pulling away, Conrad gave her a warm smile, which she vaguely returned. Charlotte turned back to her mother.

"Mom, are you coming?"

"I need to talk to your mother about something. Do you mind giving us a few minutes?"

Charlotte glanced to her mother, giving her a look to ask if she needed to be here. She knew this was the setup of another one of her parent's fights.

"You go, I'll be upstairs," Victoria reassured with a smile.

"Okay," Charlotte agreed before heading up the stairs.

"It appears you have Charlotte back in your circle and made her hate me." Conrad spat.

"I didn't make her hate you, you did that on your own," she reminded.

Conrad followed her into the kitchen area. Victoria spotted the tea kettle on the stove and made herself a mug of tea. She felt a headache coming on, she could only handle so much of Conrad in a week.

"As you sip your tea, listen, I have a proposition for you. I've assembled a group of influential for the fundraising committee of my newly acquired youth center, and I would love you, to be the head of committee."

"Why would I do that?"

Victoria waited to hear Conrad's usual line about it being her duty and responsibly as head of the Grayson household. She was surprised as his gaze softened and explained sincerely.

"Your childhood was terrible. You grew up with an abusive mother under unloving and harsh circumstances." He grabbed his brief case then opened a manila folder.

"These are profiles for some of the underprivileged high school kids who'll receive grants for college. They all come from similar abusive backgrounds, they all are in danger of slipping through the cracks due to their volatile behaviors and told that they haven't a chance of things getting better for their future. There's a young woman, Catalina Vargas, she was just like you once. A teenage mother alone in the world, working hard to make ends meet, unsure of what the future held for herself and her child."

Glancing to the profiles, Victoria's eyes caught the young Latina woman's tired, brown eyes. She was smiling, trying her best to look happy, but Victoria could see she the overworked and tired look in her eyes. Victoria' chest ached. She clearly recalled the struggle and uncertainty she felt at that time in her life, raising Patrick alone, without any financial or family support. She felt a wave of emotion course through her and a tear fell down her cheek.

Conrad stood by her side and said with confidence and assurance.

"Victoria please, your support would be a tremendous benefit. Don't do it for me. Do it for all the young mothers. You were one a young, scared mother too, remember?"

She did all too well. She wouldn't have wished that kind of hardship on any parent. Conrad placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You'd be a shining example, a symbol of hope and power for young women like her."

"And a symbol for your campaign," Victoria stated knowing. She wiped her cheek, sent him an emotionless stare then closed the folder. She took a seat at the table, sipping her tea.

Conrad knew just how to get to her, where to strike her emotionally so she'd bend to his will. Only it wasn't going to work, she knew that he was struggling to connect with voters, since she'd decided not to attend any events to further his campaign. But as always, Conrad couldn't make decisions on his own without a woman guiding him by the hand and telling him what to do. His mother would always baby him, even during the early stages of their marriage. And since then, it'd become second nature for him rely on a woman to lead the way. Case in point: Miss Ashely, but, there was only so much the young go-getter could accomplish for him from behind the scenes and behind closed doors.

Victoria had to be at the forefront, it was the only way Conrad was going to succeed and win Governor.

"You needn't emotionally manipulate me Conrad. I'll be head of the committee. In fact, I will show up to all your upcoming campaign events from here on out, on the condition that we file for divorce at the end of the elections. Regardless of if your elected Governor or not, I still get the divorce."

Conrad's charming and caring demeanor slipped to reveal his harsh and immature nature. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning against the counter with a clenched fist.

"Are you insane?" he raged.

"Quite the contrary, I'm thinking quite clearly. It's simple; you want to secure your campaign trail and your image and I want you out of my home and my life without. We both win."

"No, I'm not agreeing to this," he disagreed like a child.

"Well then, have fun with your mistress," she shrugged and went back to sipping her tea.

Conrad thought for a moment. He knew she was right. He couldn't sustain his campaign without Victoria by his side. He was completely lost and unable to connect with people the way she could. She had that magic touch. He rested his hands on the back of the chair opposite Victoria, and glanced to her with a look of defeat.

"And your terms?"

"That your bitch never step foot in my house ever again."

"Fine, I agree to your terms. I'll let you have the divorce and see to it Miss Ashley conducts her business elsewhere. But you must agree to my terms; act as my loving, supporting and devoted wife both in public and private."

Victoria smiled thinly. Conrad knew exactly how to get to her. How to get to her from the inside out. All he wanted was her.

"I agree."

Conrad came around her chair, leaned down and wrapped his arms possessively around her shoulders. He brushed her dark hair to the side then ran his hands down her shoulder all the way to her hips. He smiled, feeling the warmth of her skin and softness of her hair after months of not being allowed to, it gave him a sense of calm and control, something no other woman was able to give him.

"You're mine," he whispered huskily before kissing her neck.

"Mhmmm," she let a moan of pleasure escape despite the situation. Conrad knew how to make her bend to him.

She didn't fight him or try to shrug out of his grip. She just closed her eyes, imagining her new life with her children. Perhaps a second home in Puerto Rico where she'd have the support of Señora Martínez and her family. Speaking Spanish, eating delicious food and dancing care-free to Latin music. She had to imagine someplace warm to numb the cold sensations from Conrad's lips as he took his time assaulting her neck and shoulders.

"Stand up," he ordered then bit her earlobe.

Victoria did so, she met his gaze, his eyes overflowed with lust and desire as he trailed her body, admiring every curve and swell that her curve hugging red dress displayed. He had to think Victoria was like a glass of wine, even better with age.

Conrad pressed himself against her, forcing the back of her legs to press into the edge of the dining room table. He roughly held her by the hips, grabbed her chin, then tipped it up to ravage her lips.

Victoria cupped his jaw, deepening the kiss, dominating him with her tongue and lips. She knew acting complacent wouldn't satisfy him. Her other hand trailed down the front of his torso, then lower to his trousers. She gave him a squeeze, instantly earning a moan. He locked eyes with her, the red-hot lust in her eyes only making him even harder.

"How about we continue this upstairs?"

"I can't. I have a meeting with the Senator."

Pulling away, Conrad was pleased to see her smiling, a pleasant change from her usual frowns and scowls. He wished that the passion and lust she felt for him now were genuine but he knew this was all an act. He just had to accept that this was how things would be for now. That the love in her eyes wasn't love but disdain and the warmth he felt as she embraced him was hatred. He didn't know what he felt for her any longer. It wasn't hatred but it wasn't love either.

"Then, I'll see you tonight, dear." she slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to her body. Her body heat between them had melted his ice-cold touch. She kissed him once more. "Have a good meeting."

"Till tonight, then."

Back at the cottage, Emily watched the video footage on her laptop with a small smirk.

"Are you watching this Nolan?" Emily asked into the speaker phone.

"No, Peeping Ems, I'm not. Just tell me they're not doing the horizontal salsa."

"Oh, grow up, " she rolled her eyes then glanced to the printed guest list. Spotting Nolan's name she smiled. Conrad had picked out the people to be on the committee and her name was nowhere to be found. It seemed he did care about Victoria to some extent.

"You're on the committee. Think you can get me in as a guest?"

"Consider it done. Just never send me video footage like this ever again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to wash my eyes out with soap."


Author's Note |

This was suppose to be a longer chapter but the second half and the next chapter have a few kinks that need to ironed out! I hope you all understand. Thank you for your support, PMs, follows, reviews, and views! I really appreciate all your support, it means a lot! Hopefully the ConVict isn't too cringey, have I mentioned I don't write them together that much?

Also FH you gotta know, I got strong ConVict vibes from your latest chapter, and I just had to write a scene like this between them. #tryingtokeepthedreamalive #ConVict #sorrynotsorry #theirmarriageinflames

Have I mentioned you need to read FH's Summer 1993: What if? If you haven't you'll be blown out of the water by what happens!

Until next time,

DDLJ