A New Way Forward

by pomatterpie

In the heat of a battleground Senate race in Ohio, underdog candidate Shelby Corcoran's campaign takes an unexpected turn when high school volunteer Rachel stirs up parts of her past she thought were buried. Now, Shelby must balance the relentless demands of winning it all with a personal history that threatens everything she's built. Two-Parts. Political AU.

2. Chapter 2

Part II

---

The following morning, the campaign office was already in full crisis mode.

It was barely 7 a.m., but the room outside Shelby's office was humming with frantic energy. Phones were ringing, staffers were pacing with cups of coffee, and low murmurs filled the air. The news hadn't broken yet, but they were on borrowed time. The right-wing outlet had given them until 10 a.m. to respond.

Inside the office, Shelby sat behind her desk, silent. Ben was beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder, but she barely felt it. Across from her, Beth and Giselle were standing, both of them talking at once, their voices sharp, words tumbling over each other as they tried to figure out how to contain the situation.

"We can't let them control the narrative," Beth said, her voice tight with frustration. "If this leaks the wrong way, it's going to completely blow up. We have to get ahead of it."

"Legally, we can challenge them on this," Giselle added, flipping through papers on the desk. "There's no way they can run with it like this. They don't have enough to stand on—Shelby didn't even know about Rachel until now."

Ben leaned forward, his jaw clenched. "Do we really want to drag this into court? We've got three hours to make a decision, and the longer we take, the worse it looks. If this hits the public, they're going to spin it however they want."

Shelby heard them. She heard the frantic back-and-forth, the sense of impending doom, but it felt distant, muffled—like she was watching it all through a fog. The chaos around her barely registered. She couldn't focus on any of it. Her mind kept drifting back to her.

Rachel.

Her daughter. Her child.

The girl I gave up.

Shelby blinked, her vision blurring. Her chest felt tight, her throat raw. She couldn't get the image of Rachel's face out of her mind—the way she had looked over the past few weeks, her quiet determination, her eagerness to help. Shelby had seen her around the office a dozen times, had even spoken to her briefly at rallies. She had watched her, felt some strange pull toward her, but had never understood why.

Now, she knew.

She gripped the edge of her desk, trying to steady herself, but her mind wouldn't stop racing.

How do I tell her?
Does she already know?
Does she hate me?

"Shelby," Beth's voice cut through the haze. "We need to make a decision. Do we respond to the reporter, or do we release a statement first?"

Shelby blinked again, trying to focus. Beth was looking at her, eyes full of worry, but Shelby couldn't form words. Her mouth was dry. She felt Ben's hand squeeze her shoulder, a silent plea to engage, but she couldn't.

"We need to control this," Giselle said, her tone sharp. "We've still got a chance to turn this around. If we're the ones to break the story, we can shape the narrative."

"What would that even look like?" Ben asked, his voice strained. "A press conference? A written statement?"

"We don't have time for a press conference," Beth snapped. "We need something now—before 10 a.m."

Their voices overlapped, words tumbling into one another. They were talking at her, around her, trying to figure out how to put out the fire, but all Shelby could think about was Rachel.

She pictured the day she left the hospital, walking out with empty arms. Her parents had driven her home in silence. She had sat in the back seat, staring out the window, feeling like a ghost of herself. She hadn't cried then, hadn't allowed herself to feel anything. She had convinced herself that it was the only choice, the best thing for both of them.

But now, that decision felt like a knife twisting in her chest.

How do I explain this to her?
How do I explain why I gave her up?
How do I even begin to apologize for that?

"Shelby." This time, it was Ben's voice, soft but firm. "We need to make a decision."

She looked up, her eyes glassy, struggling to push past the fog. "What?" Her voice came out weak, barely a whisper.

Beth leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "We really need to get ahead of this. If we wait, we lose the chance to tell it on our terms. We need to release a statement."

"What... what kind of statement?" Shelby's voice was hollow, her mind still elsewhere. She wasn't thinking about the reporter anymore, or the campaign, or the fallout. She was thinking about Rachel—her daughter, who was somewhere out there, who had absolutely no idea her entire world was about to fall apart.

Suddenly, an image flashed in her mind: Rachel's face when she inevitably found out. Would it be shock? Anger? Hurt? Shelby imagined her, standing there, trying to process the fact that the woman she'd been working for, the woman she'd looked up to, was the same woman who had given her away all those years ago.

Giselle's voice broke through again, sharp and precise. "Shelby, if you want to control this, you need to make a statement before it leaks. We frame it as a personal matter—something from your past that has just come to light. We ask for privacy. But you can't wait. The longer we delay, the worse this will look."

Ben leaned in closer, his hand still on her shoulder. "They're right, Shel. We have to move fast."

But Shelby's mind was already elsewhere again.

I've been keeping this secret for eighteen years. What do I even say to her?
How do I even begin to explain?

She could still see Rachel's face in her mind. She imagined her finding out from a headline, from the news—finding out the truth in the worst possible way. The thought made Shelby's stomach turn. No, she couldn't let that happen. She had to tell Rachel first. She had to talk to her before this all spiraled out of control.

"We have three hours," Beth said, her voice firm but laced with urgency. "What's it going to be, Shelby?"

Shelby blinked again, staring at the papers on her desk but not really seeing them. Everything was moving too fast. The chaos in the room, the pressure from all sides. But at the center of it all was Rachel, her daughter. The only thing Shelby could focus on.

She felt the panic rising again, the weight of it pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. How could she make a decision about the campaign when her entire life was unraveling right in front of her?

Her lips parted, and her voice came out small, fragile. "I need... I need to talk to her."

Beth and Giselle exchanged a glance. "Who?" Beth asked carefully, though the answer was already clear.

"Rachel," Shelby whispered, her voice shaking. "I need to talk to her before this gets out."

Ben squeezed her hand, understanding flashing in his eyes. "You're right," he said softly. "Of course. You should be the one to tell her."

"Shelby, we don't have time for that," Giselle said, frustration creeping into her voice. "This is going to hit the press in a few hours. We need to act now."

"I'll talk to her now," Shelby insisted, her voice cracking. She couldn't let her find out this way. Not from a headline. Not from the news. "I have to."

The room went quiet for a moment, the gravity of Shelby's words settling over them. Ben nodded, his expression softening. "Then we do it now," he said. "Before anything else."

Beth let out a slow breath. "Okay," she said, glancing at Giselle. "But we can't wait too long. We need a response by 10."

"I know," Shelby whispered, her chest tight. "But I have to talk to her first."

---

Before leaving, Shelby had sought out Jesse. She found him in the corner of the office, his eyes glued to his laptop as he rattled off talking points to another staffer. When he noticed her standing there, he raised an eyebrow, surprised. She rarely pulled him aside directly.

"Hey, Jesse," she began, her voice tight, barely holding together. "I… I need Rachel's number. Can you give it to me?"

Jesse blinked, confused. "Rachel? Is something wrong?" He studied her face, clearly trying to read what was going on beneath the surface. "Is this about the youth rally on Thursday?"

Shelby forced a steady look, though she could feel the cracks forming. "Please, Jesse. Just trust me on this."

He hesitated, his gaze flicking between her and the rest of the office, where Beth and Giselle were waiting just out of earshot. After a beat, he nodded reluctantly, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts. "Alright… here," he said, handing her a slip of paper with Rachel's number scribbled on it. "But… are you sure she's okay?"

Shelby only nodded, her voice too tight to answer. She murmured a quick "Thank you," and turned away, clutching the paper like it was a lifeline.

The moment she stepped out of the office, her mind felt hazy, her head still spinning from the meeting with Beth, Giselle, and Ben. They'd reluctantly agreed to give her time. But as Shelby climbed into her car and drove out of Columbus, a sick sense of dread settled into her stomach.

The drive to Lima passed in a blur. She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white, her heart racing. She'd dialed Rachel's number right after leaving the office, her hand shaking as she pressed the phone to her ear. It rang three times before Rachel's groggy, confused voice picked up.

"Shelby? What's going on?" Rachel had asked, sounding nervous after she had introduced herself. "Did I do something wrong? Am I getting fired?"

Shelby's heart had clenched at the panic in the girl's voice. God, what must she think? "No, Rachel. You didn't do anything wrong," she had said, forcing her voice to stay steady. "But I need to talk to you. It's... it's important. Can we meet before school? At McKinley?"

Rachel had paused for a beat, her breath hitching. "Uh... sure. Okay. When?"

"8:15. I'll meet you at the football field, alright?"

"Okay... is everything okay?" Rachel had asked, a note of worry creeping in.

Shelby had swallowed hard, her throat tight. "We'll talk when I get there."

The football field at McKinley High School felt eerily quiet in the early morning light.

The sky was just beginning to brighten, the orange and pink streaks of dawn creeping over the horizon. Shelby parked her car near the bleachers, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. Her chest felt tight as she stepped out of the car and walked slowly toward the field. The cool morning air nipped at her skin, making her feel even more out of place, as if the entire world had shifted beneath her feet and she didn't know how to stand on solid ground anymore.

This is it, she thought, her stomach twisting with a kind of nervous energy she hadn't felt in years. She was about to meet her daughter, her daughter, and yet... she didn't know anything about her. Not really. She didn't know her favorite song, or how she took her coffee, or if she preferred cats to dogs. She didn't even know what Rachel's life was like now.

Rachel's voice from the phone still echoed in her mind. Did I do something wrong? She sounded like a young girl trying to make sense of a world she didn't fully understand yet. Because she doesn't know. She doesn't know what's about to happen.

Shelby spotted Rachel sitting on the bleachers, hunched over her phone. For a moment, she just stood there, watching her from a distance. Rachel looked so small in the vast emptiness of the football field, her dark hair catching the soft glow of the early morning sun.

And that's when it hit Shelby again, hard—the resemblance. She could see it clearly now, as if the floodgates had opened. The sharpness of Rachel's jawline, the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the curve of her lips—she looked so much like Shelby had at that age. The realization took Shelby's breath away.

She's mine. How didn't I see it before?

She swallowed hard and forced herself to approach. Rachel looked up when she heard the soft crunch of Shelby's footsteps on the gravel, her expression shifting from confusion to concern. She stood up quickly, slipping her phone into her pocket.

"Shelby?" Rachel's voice was hesitant, almost uncertain, as if she wasn't sure why she was here. "Is... is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?"

Shelby's heart clenched at the nervousness in Rachel's tone. "No, Rachel," she said quickly, doing her best to sound calm, though her stomach was churning. "You didn't do anything wrong. You're not in trouble." She offered a small smile, though it felt shaky.

Rachel exhaled in relief, though her body was still tense. "Oh. Okay... because I thought maybe I messed something up."

Shelby shook her head. "No, you haven't messed anything up. This... this isn't about work."

Rachel blinked, confused. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking even younger than she had before. "Then what is this about?"

Shelby gestured toward the bleachers. "Can we sit down? There's something I need to talk to you about, and it's... it's not easy."

Rachel frowned, still looking worried, but she sat down beside Shelby on the metal bleachers, the air thick with tension. Shelby took a deep breath, her mind spinning with how to even begin.

"I didn't mean to drag you out here so early," Shelby said, trying to lighten the mood. "Wasn't trying to use skullduggery or anything."

Rachel frowned, clearly confused. "Skullduggery?"

Shelby gave a small, tight laugh. "Yeah, it's an old word. Sneaky, underhanded tactics. I'm not great at it, apparently."

Rachel let out a small, hesitant laugh. "Well, you definitely freaked me out."

"I'm sorry about that," Shelby said, more sincerely now. "I just... there's something I need to talk to you about. And it's not easy."

Rachel shifted, her arms still crossed protectively over her chest. "Okay... what is it?"

Shelby could feel her heart racing. She couldn't start with the truth, not yet. Not until she knew more about Rachel first. "I've seen how dedicated you've been to the campaign. I've noticed your work, but I don't really know much about you, outside of that." She tried to smile. "I wanted to get to know you better."

Rachel blinked, clearly thrown off by the question. "Oh, um... okay." She hesitated, chewing on her lip. "I mean, apart from politics, I'm really into music. Performing, actually. I'm in the glee club and the show choir at school. We compete in national and regional competitions and... it's kind of my thing."

Shelby's chest tightened. Music? She hadn't known that. She hadn't known that Rachel shared something so fundamental with her. "Music?" Shelby echoed, a small, genuine smile breaking through. "That's amazing. What kind of music do you sing?"

Rachel's face lit up slightly, the tension easing. "All kinds, really. Broadway, pop, some classic rock. Performing is... where I feel the most like myself, I guess."

Shelby found herself leaning in, wanting to hear more. "You've performed at national competitions?"

Rachel nodded, a little smile forming on her lips. "Yeah, our team's won a couple of times." She paused, then added, "Actually... It's part of why I care about the campaign. You know, I've been thinking a lot about how we need more arts education funding in schools. So many of the music programs are being cut. We're lucky we still have ours, but it's hanging by a thread. That's why I really want you to win. Maybe you can do something about it."

Shelby blinked, taken aback. The pride swelling inside her only grew. She's thinking about the bigger picture. She's thinking about what really matters. She hadn't expected this level of insight from Rachel, not so soon. She could see now how deeply Rachel cared about this—not just for herself, but for other students too.

"I'll do everything I can," Shelby said, her voice soft but firm. "I promise."

Rachel gave a faint smile but looked slightly more confused now. "Yeah, but anyway, my dads come to every show. They're really supportive."

My dads. The phrase hit Shelby with a strange kind of finality. Rachel must be aware then that she's adopted. The reminder sent a wave of emotion crashing over her, but before she could respond, Rachel's phone buzzed again.

"Sorry," Rachel mumbled, pulling it out. "Jesse made me set up Google alerts for your name so I can keep up with news on the campaign. Let me just..." She glanced down at the screen, and then froze. Her face went pale.

"What's wrong?" Shelby asked, her stomach flipping.

Rachel's eyes flicked back to the screen, her hand shaking slightly as she read the notification. "Wait... why is my name...?" Her voice faltered, trembling as she stared at the notification. Slowly, she read the headline aloud. "'Rachel Berry Revealed as Biological Daughter of Ohio Senate Candidate Shelby Corcoran.'"

The world seemed to freeze.

Rachel's wide, disbelieving eyes shot up to Shelby. "What... what is this?"

Shelby's stomach dropped. The story had broken.

"I can explain," Shelby whispered, her voice shaking.

"Explain what?" Rachel's voice cracked, panic flooding her words.

Her face had gone pale, her eyes wide with disbelief. Shelby could see the hurt starting to settle in, like cracks spreading beneath the surface, ready to shatter at any moment.

Shelby took a breath, steadying herself, her own heart racing. "Rachel, listen to me," she said, her voice trembling but firm. "I just found out yesterday. I didn't know until now—until the reporter—"

Rachel's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. "Wait. So this is real?" Her voice wavered between disbelief and shock. "You're... you're my biological mother?"

Shelby nodded, the admission hitting her harder each time she said it. "Yes. I'm so sorry you're finding out like this, I wanted to tell you, but—"

Rachel cut her off, shaking her head as if she were trying to wake up from a nightmare. "This can't be happening. This can't be happening!" Her voice was rising in panic. "You're running for Senate! What does this even mean? What is going to happen to me? To you? Oh my God."

Shelby felt her stomach twist painfully. She had spent the entire night turning these same questions over in her mind, but the last thing she wanted was to pile her own fears on top of Rachel's. She had to stay calm—for both of them.

"Rachel," she said, her voice steadying as she found her footing. "I don't know all the answers yet, but I swear to you, I'm going to handle it. I will protect you, no matter what."

Rachel looked at her, her eyes glassy with confusion and fear. "How? How are you going to protect me? The whole world already knows!" Her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone again, scrolling through the flood of notifications. "They're going to dig into my life. Everyone's going to know I'm your—your daughter. I don't even know what that means. And people are going to hate me because they hate you! And the campaign, the election—"

Her voice was spiraling, her words coming faster, more panicked with each breath. Shelby's own phone buzzed in her pocket—then buzzed again. And again. Rachel's phone started chiming too, notification after notification lighting up the screen.

"God, it's everywhere," Rachel whispered, her voice barely audible now. "What do we do? What do we do?"

Shelby felt a knot of fear tighten in her chest, but she forced it down. She had to be strong. She couldn't fall apart now.

"Rachel, hey, look at me." She reached out, gently taking her arm. "We're going to figure this out. But you can't go to school today. I don't think it's safe for you to be here right now."

Rachel's phone buzzed in her hand again, then Shelby's phone chimed with yet another incoming call. She pulled it out briefly and saw Ben on the screen. Her phone buzzed again—this time it was Beth. A string of notifications flooded in one after the other, lighting up the screen like a chain reaction of incoming chaos.

Rachel's face went white as her phone continued to chime in her hand, buzzing with texts, calls, and news alerts. "Oh God," she whispered, her voice cracking as the reality set in. "Oh God, this is real. What do we do? Shelby—what do we do?"

Shelby swallowed hard, pushing down her own fear. She reached out, gently pulling her daughter into her arms. "Come here," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her child for the first time, holding her tight. She felt Rachel freeze for a moment, and then suddenly, the tension broke. Rachel collapsed into her, burying her face in her shoulder, and Shelby held her even tighter.

"It's going to be okay," Shelby whispered, stroking her daughter's hair. "I promise. It's going to be okay."

Rachel's body shook with quiet sobs, her fingers gripping the fabric of Shelby's jacket as if she were clinging to a lifeline. Shelby could feel the tears burning in her own eyes, but she blinked them back, focusing on keeping the girl calm. She couldn't break down now. Not with Rachel depending on her.

Shelby's phone vibrated again, and she glanced down, seeing Beth's name flashing across the screen. She ignored the call, knowing she had more important things to focus on right now.

"I think we need to get you home," Shelby said softly, still holding Rachel close. "You need to be with your dads. We'll call them on the way and explain everything."

Rachel pulled back slightly, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "What do I even say to them?" Her voice cracked, and she wiped at her face with the back of her hand, her phone still clutched tightly in the other. "They don't even know. How am I supposed to explain this?"

Shelby shook her head gently, cupping Rachel's face. "You don't have to explain anything. I'll explain it. I'll tell them everything. But right now, we just need to get you somewhere safe, okay?"

Rachel hesitated, her eyes still brimming with uncertainty and fear, but then she nodded. "Okay. Yeah, okay."

Shelby stood up, still holding Rachel's hand as they walked down the bleachers. The early morning air felt colder now, sharper. She could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her, but she forced herself to keep moving, to keep it together.

They reached the parking lot, and Shelby unlocked her car, motioning for Rachel to get in. "I'll drive you home," Shelby said gently, opening the passenger door. "We'll call your dads on the way and explain. I'll stay with you until we figure this out."

Rachel nodded again, though she still looked dazed, as if she were moving through a fog she couldn't quite escape. Shelby slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine, her hands gripping the steering wheel. She glanced over at the girl, who was staring blankly out the window, her phone still buzzing with incoming calls and notifications.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Shelby reached over and gently squeezed Rachel's hand. "We're going to figure this out," she said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Rachel didn't say anything, but she squeezed Shelby's hand back, a small, fragile gesture of trust.

They drove in silence, the early morning light washing over the quiet streets of Lima as the weight of everything that had just unfolded hung heavy between them.

---

Shelby stood in the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink, her knuckles white as she tried to gather herself.

The quiet hum of the house around her felt suffocating, pressing in on her from every side. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes red-rimmed and tired from a sleepless night. Her stomach twisted violently, the nausea still rolling through her in waves.

She hadn't thrown up yet, but the feeling was there, clawing at her insides. She was barely holding it together. This is Rachel's house, she thought, almost in disbelief. Her daughter's childhood home. The place where she'd grown up, surrounded by love, by the family Shelby had never been a part of. The thought twisted her stomach into tighter knots. Her dads, she reminded herself. She has two dads, and they love her.

When they had arrived earlier that morning, Rachel's dads, Hiram and LeRoy, had been waiting for them at the door. Shelby had braced herself, half-expecting hostility or anger, but there had been none. Just concern. And a quiet, almost stunned disbelief. They had ushered Rachel inside, holding her close as she explained—haltingly—what had happened. Shelby had stood in the background, trying to remain calm, but the overwhelming weight of it all—standing in her daughter's home, meeting her dads, seeing the Corcoran for Ohio yard sign planted proudly on their front lawn—had left her feeling small and out of place.

As Hiram and LeRoy held their daughter, Shelby had tried to explain, but the words kept catching in her throat. There had been no anger, just a somber, shared realization that everything was about to change. Forever.

How is this my life now? she had thought as they crossed the threshold, the reality of everything sinking in further. The woman who had given up Rachel eighteen years ago was now standing in the home of her biological daughter, a daughter who had built a life without her.

The memory swirled in her head as she stood in the bathroom, gripping the sink like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her phone buzzed incessantly in her pocket, but she didn't have the energy to check it. The headlines were already flashing through her mind—'Secret Daughter of Senate Candidate Revealed,' followed by endless speculation and scandal. She felt like she was drowning.

A knock at the door echoed through the house, pulling Shelby from her spiraling thoughts.

She froze, her heart skipping a beat. Not now. Please, not now.

There was a moment of quiet before she heard the front door open, followed by a familiar voice. "Beth," Shelby whispered under her breath. Of course.

She pushed herself off the sink, trying to steel her nerves as she walked back toward the living room. When she rounded the corner, Beth was standing near the door, a tight smile on her face, holding a folder in one hand and her phone in the other. Her eyes flicked between Shelby and Rachel's dads, trying to be polite but clearly on edge.

"Shel," Beth said, her voice laced with tension. "I'm so sorry to intrude, but we need to make some decisions. There's a lot happening, and we need to get in front of this." She held up the folder in her hand. "Giselle's written up a few statements for you to review."

Shelby barely nodded, her attention drifting to the living room, where Rachel sat on the couch, staring at the TV, her face streaked with tears. The sight of her daughter crying tore at Shelby's heart. On the screen, the headline blared across the bottom: 'Shelby Corcoran's Secret Daughter Revealed—Campaign in Crisis.'

Then came the sound of Grayson's voice, smug and cold. Shelby's stomach lurched.

"If Shelby Corcoran can't even be honest with her own family," Grayson was saying, his lips curling into a cruel smile, "How can Ohioans trust her to be honest with them? And what kind of mother hides something like this for so long? We all deserve transparency in our leaders. Voters deserve a candidate they can trust, not someone with secrets like this—secrets that clearly go deep."

He paused for dramatic effect, and Shelby felt her body tighten.

"And I don't want to be the one to say it," Grayson added, leaning in with a faux conspiratorial tone, "But if this is how she treats her own daughter, is she fit to be a mother, let alone a senator?"

Rachel stiffened on the couch, her eyes glued to the screen, and Shelby saw fresh tears spill down her cheeks. The sight made Shelby's stomach twist again, and before she knew it, she was rushing back into the kitchen. She barely made it to the sink before the nausea overwhelmed her, her body heaving as she threw up.

"Shelby," Beth's voice came from behind her, sharp but not unkind. "You need to get yourself together. If not for you, then do it for your daughter."

Shelby's breathing was ragged as she gripped the edge of the sink, trying to hold on to something—anything—to keep from breaking down completely. Her body felt weak, her head spinning from both the physical and emotional weight of it all.

"I know," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I know I need to, but…"

Beth took a step closer, her tone softening but still laced with urgency. "I'm sorry, but we're running out of time. You need to make a decision. The press is waiting. This is only going to get worse if we don't act now."

Shelby turned slowly, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "Just give me a second," she said, her voice hoarse but firm.

Beth frowned, the tension between them thick in the air. "We don't have a second, Shelby."

Shelby straightened, her jaw tightening. "Let me remind you who's in charge here," she said, her voice low and commanding. "I need a minute. I'm not going to make any decisions until I've had time to think."

Beth blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden shift in the woman's tone, but she nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But we don't have much time."

Shelby nodded, feeling the tension in the air ease slightly. "I know. I'll be out soon." She glanced toward the living room, where Rachel was still sitting on the couch, her phone buzzing with new notifications, her face pale and lost. "Just give me a minute."

"Okay," Beth exhaled, clearly frustrated but understanding.

Shelby watched her walk away before turning on her heel and moving down the hallway, her footsteps echoing in the quiet of the house. She wasn't sure where she was going—she just needed space, a moment to collect herself. She passed a few doors, glancing at family photos on the wall, bits and pieces of Rachel's life she'd never known.

Then, one door stood slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of a room decorated with posters and photos taped to the walls. Shelby paused, her heart pounding as she realized it was Rachel's bedroom. She hesitated, her hand hovering near the doorframe, before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open gently.

Inside, the room was filled with the unmistakable signs of Rachel's personality—a mix of Broadway posters, a bulletin board crowded with photos of her friends, and a sheet of vocal warm-up exercises pinned above her desk. Shelby's eyes softened as she took it all in, feeling like she was seeing another piece of her daughter's life for the first time.

This is her life, Shelby thought, her chest tightening. This is the life I missed out on.

Her fingers brushed over a picture frame on the desk—a photo of Rachel and her dads at what looked like a show choir competition, all three of them beaming at the camera. Shelby's throat tightened, and she blinked back tears. She had missed so much.

The sound of the door creaking open behind her made Shelby turn. Rachel stood in the doorway, her eyes puffy from crying but calmer than before. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

"I'm sorry," Shelby whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry for all of this."

Rachel shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's not your fault," she said quietly, her voice steady but sad. "I mean... you didn't even know. And you were just a kid, too, right? I'm the same age now as you were back then, and I can't even… I can't imagine being in that position. I mean I know I just turned eighteen, so technically I'm an adult, but I don't know… I… it's okay."

Shelby let out a shaky breath, her heart swelling with emotion. "I was. I was just a kid. But that doesn't mean I haven't thought about you every day since. I loved you then, and I love you now. No matter what happens, you matter to me, Rachel."

Rachel looked down, her lip trembling. "I don't even know what to say."

Shelby stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to say anything right now. Just know that I'm here for you. And whatever happens with the press or the campaign, I'm going to protect you."

Rachel looked up, her eyes searching Shelby's face. "But what about you? You matter to a lot of people too, you know. What are you going to do?"

Shelby's breath hitched, her mind racing. What was she going to do? The campaign was hanging by a thread. Grayson had already launched vile attacks, the media was circling like sharks, and the pressure from her team was mounting by the minute. But none of that felt as important as the girl standing in front of her now—her daughter. The daughter she had never gotten the chance to know, but who mattered more than all of it combined.

"I... I don't know yet," she admitted, her voice soft and raw. "But I'm going to figure it out."

Rachel stepped closer, her voice quiet but filled with concern. "You have to do something, Shelby. You can't just... not respond. They're going to keep coming after you. After us." She paused, taking a breath. "I know it's complicated. But... you matter to more than just me. People are counting on you."

Shelby looked at her, surprised by the maturity in Rachel's voice. She was still just a teenager, but she was handling this with a kind of calm that Shelby hadn't expected. Even in the midst of all this chaos, Rachel wasn't crumbling.

God, she's stronger than I was at her age, Shelby thought, the realization sinking in. Rachel wasn't just a victim of circumstance. She was resilient. Maybe even stronger than Shelby had given her credit for.

Shelby swallowed hard, her eyes welling up again. "I know. You're right. I have to respond. I can't let Grayson... I can't let him twist this."

Rachel gave her a small, sad smile, her eyes still red from crying. "He's going to say awful things, isn't he? About me, about you."

Shelby's stomach churned again at the thought of Grayson's next move. He'd already crossed a line, going after Rachel with his insinuations. She had no doubt he would go lower, dig deeper, turn this into the ugliest possible version of the truth. She hated him for it. Hated that she hadn't been able to shield Rachel from this.

"He's already said awful things," Shelby muttered, her jaw clenching. "But I promise you this, Rachel. I'm not going to let him drag you through the mud. I'm going to fight for you. I'll make sure people know the truth."

Rachel's lips pressed together, her eyes softening as she stepped closer. "I'm scared, Shelby," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I don't know what's going to happen, and I feel like my whole life just got turned upside down."

Shelby's heart broke at the vulnerability in Rachel's voice. She wanted to promise her that everything would be okay, that it would all work out, but she couldn't. She didn't know what was going to happen. The only thing she could do was promise to be there for her.

"I know," Shelby whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I know you're scared. I am too."

Rachel's face softened at that. She reached out, taking Shelby's hand in hers. "You don't have to pretend to be strong all the time, you know."

Shelby let out a small, shaky laugh, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I've been pretending my whole life," she admitted quietly. "It's hard to stop now."

Rachel squeezed her hand, her voice quiet but steady. "You don't have to, with me."

The simplicity of those words—the understanding in them—hit Shelby like a punch to the chest. She felt her walls crack, the carefully constructed armor she'd worn for years beginning to crumble. This was her daughter, standing in front of her, offering her comfort in the midst of all this chaos. The weight of that realization made her heart swell with a mixture of pain and love.

She pulled her daughter into a tight hug, holding her close, her hands shaking slightly as she pressed her face into Rachel's hair. "I love you," Shelby whispered, her voice breaking. "I've always loved you."

Rachel hugged her back, her arms wrapping around Shelby's waist.

They stood there for a long moment, holding on to each other, the weight of everything else momentarily fading away. Shelby felt the tension in her shoulders ease, the sharp edge of panic dulling in the warmth of her daughter's embrace.

But the world outside was still spinning, still waiting for her to make a decision. The campaign, the press, the public—all of them were waiting for her to respond. And as much as she wanted to stay in this quiet, intimate moment with Rachel, she knew she couldn't. Not yet.

Rachel pulled back slightly, wiping at her eyes. "So what are you going to do?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

Shelby swallowed, her mind racing as she tried to find the answer. What was she going to do? The press was outside, Beth was waiting for her decision, and Grayson was already capitalizing on this scandal. Every minute she delayed was another minute that the narrative spiraled out of her control.

But before she could respond, her phone buzzed again, vibrating insistently in her pocket. She ignored it for a moment, but then Rachel's phone buzzed too—followed by a chime of incoming notifications.

They both glanced at their phones, tension building again. Shelby looked back at Rachel, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

She has to do something.

"I think…" Shelby began, her voice trailing off as the uncertainty crept in again. She didn't want to make a decision out of fear, but every second she hesitated felt like another opportunity slipping away.

Rachel tilted her head, watching Shelby closely. "It's okay. Whatever you decide, we'll all be with you."

Shelby blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill over again. Her daughter—her daughter—was standing in front of her, showing more strength than Shelby felt capable of mustering right now. She was so proud of her, so proud of the person Rachel had become. And that pride gave her a sense of clarity she hadn't felt all morning.

"Let's get back out there," Shelby said quietly, squeezing Rachel's hand one more time. "I think it's time."

---

The television in the campaign office flickered to life, the bright banner Special Report flashing across the screen, accompanied by the familiar sound of breaking news. Shelby sat at the head of the conference table, flanked by Beth and Giselle, her eyes on the screen but her mind somewhere far away.

"In a stunning twist in the Ohio Senate race," the anchor began, her voice smooth, polished, and authoritative. "Shelby Corcoran's campaign faced what many thought would be a fatal blow when it was revealed that Corcoran had given up a daughter for adoption nearly eighteen years ago. The revelation, uncovered by a right-wing outlet, was quickly seized upon by her opponent, Everett 'Red' Grayson, who used it to question Corcoran's character and fitness for office."

Beth glanced sideways at Shelby, her lips pressed into a tight line, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. Giselle sat beside her, scrolling through her phone, no doubt monitoring the latest news as it broke. The office around them was buzzing with activity—staffers on phones, typing furiously at laptops, voices low but tense as they worked to keep the campaign afloat.

The anchor's voice droned on, interspersed with clips from Shelby's press conferences over the past few days. Shelby's face appeared on the screen, looking pale but composed, standing before a throng of reporters.

"I was young, and I made the best decision I could for my child at the time," Shelby's voice echoed through the room. "This is a private matter, one that I have come to terms with, and I ask that the press respect the privacy of my family moving forward."

Shelby exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of those words. It was the truth—she had been honest with the press—but every time she saw that clip replayed, it felt like she was standing on shaky ground. Her past had been laid bare for the world to see, and no matter how much she tried to maintain control, there was a part of her that felt exposed, vulnerable.

"But while Corcoran has refused to comment further on the personal details of her past, the story has sparked a wave of support from women across the country. In the days following the revelation, several high-profile figures have come forward with their own allegations against Mark Garrett, the man Shelby Corcoran worked under during that fateful campaign. Garrett, now a prominent venture capitalist in Silicon Valley, has seen his career take a sharp downturn as women from both political and business circles have accused him of inappropriate behavior and abuse of power."

A clip of Mark Garrett walking briskly past a mob of reporters flashed on the screen. His face was tight, lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to avoid the barrage of questions being thrown his way. Shelby's stomach churned. She hadn't seen him in years, and now here he was—exposed.

"The fallout has extended beyond Garrett," the anchor continued, "with many seeing both Shelby Corcoran and her daughter Rachel Berry as victims of a much larger, systemic issue. Polls show a slight uptick in support for Corcoran as women across Ohio, and even across the country, have voiced their support for her. However, with less than two weeks to go before Election Day, it's unclear whether this late surge in sympathy will be enough to tip the balance in her favor."

"The polls remain tight, with Grayson holding a slim lead," a second anchor chimed in. "Despite Corcoran's rallying support, Grayson's camp has continued to press the narrative that she's untrustworthy, calling into question her ability to lead. Many political analysts believe the race is still leaning in Grayson's favor, but with these new revelations, it could come down to the wire."

Beth let out a low sigh as the anchors moved on to other stories, turning her attention back to Shelby. "We're clawing our way back, but we don't have time for sympathy votes," Beth said, her voice firm but with an edge of frustration. "The final bus tour is coming up, and we've got one last big GOTV push before the election. You're going to be in front of voters and the press every single day. We can't afford any more distractions."

Shelby nodded numbly, her eyes still lingering on the now-muted television. The office was a flurry of activity around her—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, staffers murmuring in urgent tones—but it all felt distant, like she was watching it unfold from behind glass.

Her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced down and saw it was a text from Rachel: Going to the field office in Hamilton. Be back tonight.

Rachel had been in and out of the office over the past few days, helping wherever she could, but Shelby could see the toll it was taking on her. She had been distant, sometimes cold, sometimes warm. One day, she would hug Shelby tightly, whispering, It's okay, we'll get through this, and the next day, she would barely look at her, retreating into her own world of quiet pain.

Jesse, surprisingly, had been one of the more supportive voices throughout the chaos. He had apologized to Rachel for his earlier behavior, admitting that he may have crossed lines without realizing it. Shelby had felt a surge of protectiveness for Rachel, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort, but her daughter had brushed it off with a simple, It's fine. He's not a threat.

Even so, Shelby's anxiety simmered just below the surface. Her mind felt split—one half on the campaign, the other on her daughter. She had managed to keep it together in front of the cameras, in front of her staff, but she could feel the cracks deepening with each passing day. The pressure from the campaign, the polls, the reporters—it was all pressing down on her, suffocating her.

Beth's voice cut through her haze again. "Shelby, we really need to focus," she said, her tone sharper now. "Grayson is already framing this as a 'family values' issue, and if we don't get in front of that, it's going to define the last stretch of the campaign. We need to get you ready for this last leg of the bus tour. The press, the voters—they're going to ask tough questions, and we can't afford to be off message."

Shelby blinked, shaking off the fog that had settled over her. She knew Beth was right, but it was hard to focus. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Rachel, to the past, to the weight of everything that had been unearthed.

"I know," Shelby said, her voice tight. "I'm trying."

Giselle, who had been quietly scrolling through her phone, glanced up. "We need to counter Grayson's latest smear," she said, her voice calm but firm. "He's pushing hard on this idea that you're too distracted to lead—that your focus is split, and that's going to hurt Ohioans. We need to show strength, Shelby. No more asking for privacy. You have to get out there and own this."

Shelby felt a rush of anger rising in her chest, her fists clenching under the table. "I have been owning it," she said, her voice low but seething. "I've been out there every day, answering the same damn questions. I've done everything I can, and now you're telling me I'm not strong enough?"

Beth raised her hands in a placating gesture. "No one's saying that, Shelby. But we're running out of time. The election's in a few days, and we're down in the polls. If you're not focused, we're going to lose."

The words stung, not because they were wrong, but because they were true. Shelby knew she hadn't been fully focused. How could she be? Her life had been turned upside down, her relationship with Rachel was fragile at best, and the campaign was slipping through her fingers.

She let out a long, shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "I'm focused," she said, though even she wasn't sure if she believed it. "I'm here."

Beth exchanged a look with Giselle, her frustration palpable. "Shelby," she said quietly, "I need you to be really here. We all do. We're behind you. Your donors are behind you. Your supporters are behind you. But you need to lead us."

Shelby looked up, her gaze locking with Beth's. She could feel the weight of the campaign on her shoulders, but beneath that, she could also feel something else—fear. The fear that she wasn't enough, that she couldn't fix this, that no matter how hard she tried, she would always be split between her politics and her daughter.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, her chest tight with anxiety. "Give me a minute," she said quietly, standing up from the table.

Beth opened her mouth to argue, but Shelby shot her a look. "I just need a second," she repeated, her voice firmer this time.

Beth hesitated, but then nodded, stepping back. "Fine. But we don't have much time."

Shelby turned and walked away from the table, her heart pounding as she made her way to the small side office where she could be alone.

The chaos of the campaign swirled around her, but she needed a moment to think—to breathe.

---

The campaign bus rumbled down the highway, the sound of its engine a steady hum beneath the noise inside. The Ohio countryside blurred past the windows, late autumn casting a gray, muted light over the fields and small towns they passed through. Shelby sat in the back of the bus, her phone in her lap, her mind somewhere far away.

The past few days had been a blur of stops—rallies in Columbus, Dayton, and Cincinnati—each one a whirlwind of handshakes, speeches, and photo ops. The final push of the campaign was in full swing, and the energy from her supporters had been surprisingly strong. Despite everything, her base seemed energized. The crowds cheered for her at every stop, waving their signs, chanting her name. And now, even the Democratic establishment had thrown their weight behind her, sending in surrogates—congresspeople, mayors, even a few national figures—to stump for her.

But no matter how much support she gained, Shelby couldn't shake the unease gnawing at the back of her mind.

She looked down at her phone again, scrolling through her messages. A few texts from Ben—he was joining her at their next stop, some general updates from the team. And then, there it was. The thread with Rachel, still sitting there unanswered. She had sent Rachel a couple of messages earlier in the day, checking in, asking how she was doing. No response.

Rachel had been avoiding her for days, ever since Shelby had asked her to take a break from the campaign.

The conversation had happened just before the tour started, when Shelby, Ben, Rachel, and her dads had sat down together in their living room. Shelby had seen the strain in the girl's eyes, the exhaustion from days of media scrutiny and pressure. She'd tried to frame it gently, telling Rachel she just wanted her to take some time to rest, to get away from the constant barrage of questions, the cameras, the endless whispers.

Rachel had bristled immediately, her voice sharp with defensiveness. "You want me to quit?"

"No, honey, it's not about quitting," Shelby had said, trying to stay calm. "It's just... I think you need a break. This is a lot for anyone, let alone someone who's still in school. I'm worried about you."

Rachel had crossed her arms, her face hardening. "So now you're worried about me? After everything?"

"That's not fair, Rachel," Ben had chimed in, his voice soothing but firm. "We all want what's best for you. You've been through a lot, and no one would blame you for taking a step back."

Rachel's eyes had flicked between her dads, then back to Shelby. "You're just trying to protect yourself. You think if I disappear for a while, the press will stop asking about me."

The accusation had stung more than Shelby had expected, cutting deeper because there was a kernel of truth in it. She did want to shield Rachel, but it wasn't just for the sake of the campaign. She had seen the toll it was taking on her daughter—the sleepless nights, the way her hands shook when she thought no one was looking. But Rachel's words had hit her like a slap.

"I am trying to protect you," Shelby had said softly, her voice tight. "I don't care what the press says about me. I just want you to be okay."

Rachel had stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I don't need you to protect me. I've been fine without you for eighteen years, and I'll be fine now."

The room had gone quiet, the tension thick in the air. Hiram had reached out to Rachel, trying to calm her, but she had pulled away, her face flushed with anger.

In the end, after more back-and-forth, Rachel had relented. She agreed to step back from the campaign, but not without letting Shelby know how hurt she was. Shelby had watched her storm out of the room, the guilt settling heavily in her chest. She hadn't wanted to fight with her, especially not now, but she knew her daughter was right. The timing couldn't have been worse.

Now, on the bus, Shelby stared at her phone, her finger hovering over the screen. Should I text her again? Would another message make it worse? They'd been through so much already, and Shelby didn't want to push her further away. But the silence was unbearable. Rachel had only been answering texts from time to time, the messages clipped and cold, and every unanswered text chipped away at Shelby's already frayed nerves.

The bus jolted slightly, pulling her from her thoughts as Giselle walked down the aisle, her phone glued to her ear. Beth followed behind her, flipping through a stack of papers.

"We're stopping for lunch in about half an hour," Beth said as she sat down across from Shelby, her eyes scanning the papers in front of her. "We've got a small rally planned just outside of town—about 300 people, mostly local volunteers and supporters. It'll be a good crowd. After that, we've got a bigger rally in Toledo tonight with about a couple thousand expected."

Shelby nodded absently, her mind still stuck on Rachel. "Sounds good," she said quietly.

Beth glanced up from her papers, frowning slightly. "You okay?"

Shelby forced a small smile, nodding again. "Yeah, just... thinking."

Beth didn't push, but Shelby could see the concern in her eyes. They had all been walking on eggshells around her since the story broke, trying to balance supporting her while keeping the campaign on track. Shelby appreciated it, but the truth was, her mind had been split ever since Rachel walked out of that conversation.

"I've been thinking," Shelby said, more to herself than to Beth, "Maybe I'll head home for a bit after the next rally."

Beth raised an eyebrow. "Home? You mean your parents' place?"

Shelby nodded slowly, the idea forming more solidly in her mind. They were heading through Lorain anyway, not far from where she grew up. Maybe it was time to see them, to talk to them about everything that had happened. She hadn't been home in months, too busy with the campaign to even think about it. But now, with the election just days away, with everything coming to a head, she felt a sudden urge to go back. To ground herself.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I think I need to see them. That's okay, right? We have some time this afternoon?"

Beth's expression softened slightly, and she nodded. "Might not be a bad idea. It could help clear your head before the final push."

Shelby looked out the window, the familiar landscape of northern Ohio slowly coming into view in the distance. She hadn't told her parents about Rachel yet—not the full story, anyway. They knew bits and pieces, but the truth had always been too painful to talk about. Maybe now was the time to tell them. To lay it all out and find some closure before everything came crashing down.

Her phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn't Rachel. It was Ben.

Hey, I'm at the next stop. We'll grab lunch when you get here. How are you feeling?

Shelby sighed, her fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before typing back a quick response.

Fine. Just thinking about visiting my parents after the rally.

She hit send and leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes for a moment. The noise of the campaign office, the press, the relentless questions—they all faded for a brief moment. But in their place was the ache of guilt, the uncertainty about what came next.

Whatever happened in the coming days—whether she won or lost—she had to make peace with Rachel. That much was clear. But first, she had to confront the past she had spent so long trying to forget. And that meant going home.

---

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Shelby stepped off the campaign bus, her breath catching in the cool air. The stop had gone smoothly—a small rally outside of town, more handshakes, more speeches, more smiles for the cameras. But now, as she made her way toward the edge of the rally site, she could feel the weight of exhaustion settling in her bones. She'd texted her parents earlier, letting them know she'd be stopping by after the rally. She hadn't been home in months, and the thought of seeing them again brought a strange mix of dread and comfort.

She stopped by the side of the field, staring out at the quiet stretch of road ahead of her, thinking about the house she grew up in, just under a mile away. She was about to head there when she heard Beth's voice behind her.

"Shelby, wait a second," Beth jogged up, Giselle close behind, her phone in hand as usual. Both of them had that tight-lipped, focused look that Shelby had come to recognize—something had happened.

Beth took a deep breath, glancing quickly at Giselle before turning back to Shelby. "There's been some breaking news. You'll want to hear this."

Shelby's stomach tightened. "What is it?"

Giselle stepped forward, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of urgency. "An allegation just came out against Grayson. One of his staffers, a young woman. It's bad, Shelby. The details are still coming in, but it's serious—confirmed by multiple sources."

Shelby felt her breath catch in her throat. The words felt like a punch to the gut, not because she hadn't expected something like this from Grayson—he was exactly the type of man she had feared he was—but because it hit so close to home. The news of the assault echoed painfully with everything she had been trying to forget, everything she had fought to bury. Powerful men abusing the trust of the people around them. It was a cycle that seemed to repeat itself, over and over again.

Beth's eyes were wide, but she was trying to contain her excitement. "This could be huge for us, Shelby. It's just breaking, but we need to get ahead of this. We need to make a statement. If we play this right, this could completely shift the race in the eleventh hour."

Shelby blinked, her mind swirling. Her reaction was instinctive—she should have felt a sense of political opportunity, the chance to finally take Grayson down, but instead, all she felt was hollow. Her skin prickled with the cold weight of the past. This again. Always this.

Beth noticed her hesitation, her brow furrowing. "Hey. Shel, are you okay? I know it's a lot, but—"

"I... I just need a second," Shelby muttered, her voice tight. She glanced past them toward the quiet road that led to her parents' house, her eyes blurring for a moment as the enormity of everything pressed down on her. "I just... need a moment."

Beth and Giselle exchanged a glance, concern flickering in their eyes, but Beth placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "Take a breath. We'll handle this. You'll be okay."

But Shelby wasn't listening. Her feet moved on autopilot, carrying her down the road, away from the bus, away from her team, and toward the quiet stretch of countryside where she had grown up. She kept walking until she could see the familiar silhouette of her parents' house in the distance, small and weathered, surrounded by fields that stretched out to the horizon. The house where she had spent her childhood—before politics, before campaigns, before all of this.

She stopped at the edge of the road, staring out at the open fields, the wind tugging gently at her hair. The quiet should have been calming, but instead, it felt overwhelming. The weight of everything—Rachel, the campaign, the constant barrage of questions, and now this—was pressing down on her, threatening to suffocate her.

And then, suddenly, the tears came.

She hadn't realized she was crying until she felt the wetness on her cheeks, her breath coming in short, shaky bursts. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to stop the flood of emotion, but it was no use. The dam had broken.

"Why does this keep happening?" she whispered to the empty fields. "Why is it like this? Why... why do they always get away with it?"

Her words hung in the air, unanswered, swallowed by the wind and the vast, indifferent expanse of land around her. But Shelby knew the answer, even if she didn't want to admit it.

Men like Grayson always won. No matter what they did, no matter how many people they hurt, they found a way to claw their way to the top. Even now, with this damning allegation, she could bet that some people would still support him. That his poll numbers would barely budge. He would probably make some half-hearted statement about regret, or worse, deny it entirely—and people would eat it up. They always did. The system was built to protect men like him, to let them skirt accountability and keep their grip on power.

How many times had she seen this play out? How many times had powerful men, like Grayson, like Mark, escaped the consequences of their actions, while women like her—women like Rachel—were left picking up the pieces?

She thought about the countless women who had reached out to her over the past few weeks, sharing their own stories of harassment, of exploitation, of being made to feel small. She thought about how often those stories had been brushed aside, dismissed as if they didn't matter.

"This is how we elect leaders?" Shelby whispered to herself, her voice thick with anger. "This is how we decide who's going to fight for the people?"

She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. It was a brutal, corrupt system, designed to elevate men like Grayson and bury the rest. A system where men could wield power like a weapon, and then walk away from the wreckage they left behind. A system where women had to fight twice as hard, not just to be heard, but to be believed.

And for what?

She thought about Rachel, how much her daughter had already been through. How much more she would have to face in this world that seemed determined to crush women who dared to stand up, to speak out. Rachel deserved better.

They all deserved better.

"I can't do this," Shelby said, her voice breaking. "I can't keep playing this game."

She wiped at her eyes, her breath still shaky, but there was a strange sense of clarity settling over her now. She had spent so long fighting this fight—trying to be strong, trying to be the candidate everyone wanted her to be—but the truth was, she was tired. Tired of the corruption, tired of the lies, tired of watching politicians like Grayson destroy everything they touched and face no real consequences.

"I quit," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I don't want to do this anymore."

The words felt strange on her tongue, but they were true. She didn't want to be part of this system anymore. She didn't want to keep sacrificing herself, or her daughter, just to play a game rigged from the start.

Rachel needed her. That was what mattered now.

"I'm done," she said, her voice firmer this time. "I'm done."

She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she turned back toward the bus and the two women who were still waiting for her answer.

When Beth and Giselle saw her walking back, their faces brightened slightly, but Shelby could see the flicker of concern in their eyes.

Beth stepped forward, her voice cautious. "Shelby? Are you okay? I know you wanted to see you folks, but we should talk about how to handle the news."

Shelby looked at them both, feeling the weight of her decision settle over her. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I'm dropping out," she said quietly, but firmly. "I'm done."

Beth blinked, her mouth opening slightly in shock. "What? What do you mean, you're dropping out?"

"I'm quitting the race," Shelby said, her voice stronger now. "I can't do this anymore. Rachel needs me, and I need to think about what's best for her."

Giselle's eyes widened, her phone slipping slightly in her hand. "Shelby, what? We're... we're so close. We've weathered the worst. You can't drop out now."

Shelby shook her head, her resolve hardening. "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm done."

Beth looked stunned, her hands dropping to her sides. "Shelby, you can't just walk away. What about all of the people who've supported you? The donors, the volunteers—everyone who's worked for you?"

Shelby closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the sting of her campaign manager's words. She knew what this decision meant for everyone who had believed in her. She knew what it meant for the future of the campaign, for Ohio, for everything she had fought for. But she also knew she couldn't keep going—not like this.

"I'm going to talk to my parents," Shelby said quietly. "But after that, I'll come back, and I'll talk to the staff. I'll tell them myself."

Beth opened her mouth to argue, but Shelby held up a hand. "It's over," she said softly, but with finality. "I'm done."

Beth stared at her, her face a mixture of shock and disbelief. She looked to Giselle for some kind of backup, but Giselle seemed equally thrown, still processing their boss' words.

"You can't just... you can't just drop out," Beth said, her voice edged with desperation. "We're so close, Shelby. You can still win this. You've bounced back before—you can do it again."

Shelby shook her head. "It's not about that. It's not about whether or not I can win. It's about what I'm willing to sacrifice to get there."

Giselle, regaining her composure, took a step forward. "If this is about Rachel, we can find a way to protect her. We've already dealt with the worst of the media storm. We can manage the fallout from this, Shelby. You don't have to do this. Please."

Shelby's gaze softened as she looked at Giselle and Beth, the two women who had been by her side through so much of the campaign. They believed in her—they had fought for her, just as she had fought for this race. But it wasn't enough anymore.

"I know you can handle the press," Shelby said, her voice gentle. "But this isn't just about the media. It's about what this whole thing has become. I thought I could make a difference, that I could change things from the inside. But the truth is, the system is rotten, and I don't want to be part of it anymore."

Beth's face was tight, her eyes pleading. "You don't have to give up. You've made it this far, Shelby. You've survived everything Grayson's thrown at you. Don't walk away now."

Shelby swallowed, her throat tight. "I've been thinking about Rachel," she said quietly. "And I've been thinking about what it means for her—growing up in a world where men like Grayson keep winning, no matter what they do. I've been fighting so hard to be the kind of leader I thought the people deserved, but maybe what Rachel deserves is a mother who doesn't sacrifice her own happiness, her own integrity, just to win an election."

Beth's shoulders slumped, the fight slowly draining out of her. She took a step back, glancing down at the ground. "I don't... I don't know what to say."

Shelby gave her a small, sad smile. "You don't have to say anything. I know this is hard. Believe me, it's not easy for me either. I… I'm so sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between them. The campaign bus buzzed in the distance, voices carrying faintly through the air as staffers worked tirelessly to keep the momentum going. But here, in this quiet corner of the world, it was just Shelby, standing with the people who had become her closest allies, letting go of the dream they had fought so hard to keep alive.

"I'll come back," Shelby said finally, her voice steady. "I'll talk to the team. I'll explain everything. But this is the right choice for me—for Rachel."

Beth nodded slowly, still looking dazed. Giselle, who had been quiet for the past few moments, finally spoke up. "I... I'm not sure what to say either. This is... big, Shelby. We'll figure it out, though. Just... just let us know what you need."

Shelby gave a faint nod, her heart heavy but resolute. "Thank you," she said softly. "Both of you."

With that, she turned and began walking down the road again, her steps slower this time, more deliberate. Her parents' house was just ahead now, the same modest, weather-worn home it had always been, tucked away at the end of the road. As she approached, she felt a strange mix of nostalgia and sadness wash over her. This was the place where she had learned to dream, where she had grown up with the belief that she could change the world.

But maybe the world didn't need changing, not like this. Maybe what she needed now was to stop trying to fix everything for everyone else, and start thinking about what it meant to take care of herself and her family.

She stood for a moment at the edge of the driveway, looking out at the fields that stretched beyond the house. The wind rustled the tall grass, the sky above streaked with the soft colors of a setting sun. It was peaceful here—quiet, untouched by the chaos that had come to define her life.

"I'm done," she whispered to herself again, as if saying it out loud would make it more real. "I'm done."

And this time, she believed it.

---

Shelby turned the last corner and walked toward the front door of her parents' house, bracing herself for the conversations ahead—not just with her parents, but with everyone who had believed in her, everyone who had supported her campaign. The staff, the volunteers, the voters—they deserved to hear it from her. But first, she needed to talk to the people who had shaped her, who had taught her what it meant to stand tall, even in the face of impossible choices.

She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the doorknob before pushing it open. The familiar creak of the door made her chest tighten with nostalgia and a sudden pang of emotion. The smell of home—fresh bread and the faint scent of her mother's lavender hand cream—washed over her.

Her mother, Alice, was standing by the kitchen counter, wearing one of her old aprons, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. When she saw Shelby, her face softened into a worried smile, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Shelby," Alice said gently, coming around the counter to pull her into a tight hug. "I've been waiting for you."

Shelby melted into the embrace for a moment, letting herself be held, the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on her. "Hey, mom."

Alice pulled back slightly, holding Shelby's face in her hands. "Your dad's out hunting for the afternoon. Do you need me to call him? He can be back in an hour."

Shelby shook her head quickly, not quite ready to face her dad just yet. "No, it's okay. I'll call him later."

Her mom studied her for a moment, her expression full of concern. "Come, sit down," she said softly, gesturing to the kitchen table. "You look exhausted, sweetheart. Let me get you something to drink. Tea? Coffee?"

"Tea's fine," Shelby said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She sat at the table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, while her mother moved around the kitchen, filling the kettle, her movements brisk but calm. There was an ease to her mom, a quiet confidence that Shelby had always admired. Alice had spent her life as a public school teacher, strong-willed and patient, always making room for other people's pain while somehow managing her own with grace.

When the tea was ready, Alice set a mug in front of Shelby and sat down across from her, folding her hands neatly on the table. "I've been watching the news," she said gently, not pressing too hard. "How's Rachel?"

Shelby sighed, wrapping her hands around the warmth of the mug. "She's... she's okay, I think. It's been hard for her. The press... everything."

Alice nodded, her expression full of sympathy. "I can't even imagine. She's been through so much already."

"I tried to get her to step back, take some time off," Shelby continued, her voice cracking slightly. "But she got so mad at me. And now she's just... avoiding me. Barely responding to my messages."

Alice frowned, worry creasing her brow. "It's a lot for someone her age. But she'll come around, Shelby. She's strong. Just like you."

Shelby smiled faintly, taking a sip of tea. "I hope so."

There was a moment of quiet between them, the kind of comfortable silence that only existed between people who knew each other well. Alice reached across the table and squeezed Shelby's hand. "And you? How are you doing?"

Shelby hesitated. The question seemed simple enough, but the answer was anything but. Finally, she set the mug down, taking a deep breath. "I'm... I'm dropping out."

Her mother's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and concern flooding her face. "You're dropping out? Are you sure, Shelby? That's... that's a big decision."

"I know," Shelby nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle over her. "But it's the right one. I can't keep doing this. I need to put Rachel first."

Alice leaned back slightly in her chair, absorbing the news. "I know how much this campaign meant to you, sweetheart. How hard you've worked."

"It's not about the campaign anymore," Shelby said softly, her eyes stinging. "It's about... what kind of world I'm leaving for my daughter. And this world... it's so corrupt, mom. Men like Grayson, they just... they destroy everything they touch, and then they walk away from it. It's not worth it. It's not worth what it's doing to Rachel."

Alice reached across the table again, her hand gentle but firm as she squeezed Shelby's. "Okay. I understand. I do. And I am proud of you, Shelby," she said quietly. "Whatever you decide, your dad and I will be here to support you. No matter what."

Shelby felt the knot in her chest loosen slightly, the tightness easing as her mother's words sank in. She had been so worried about what everyone would think—her staff, her supporters, the voters—but here, in this kitchen, none of that seemed to matter. What mattered was the people who loved her, the people who would stand by her no matter what happened next.

With her mother's quiet support, Shelby felt, for the first time in days, that maybe she and Rachel could rebuild. They could find a new way forward, away from the spotlight, away from the chaos. They could put all of this behind them.

They spent the next half hour sitting together, catching up on small things—family, town gossip, little stories that had nothing to do with politics. For a brief moment, it felt like Shelby could breathe again. She almost forgot about the campaign waiting for her outside, about the conversations still ahead of her.

But eventually, she knew she had to go. The decision had been made, and it was time to tell the rest of the team.

Shelby stood up, smoothing her shirt as she prepared to leave. "I should go talk to the staff. They need to hear it from me."

Alice nodded, standing as well. She walked with Shelby to the door, but just as she reached for the handle, her mother hesitated, her eyes clouding with something unspoken.

"Mom?" Shelby turned to her, noticing the struggle in her mother's expression. "What is it?"

Alice swallowed hard, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm... I'm sorry, Shelby. For what happened to you. With Mark. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you… You were just a child…."

Shelby's heart clenched, her throat tightening as the weight of her mother's words hit her. She hadn't expected this, hadn't expected to hear those words spoken out loud. Her eyes welled up with tears, her breath hitching in her chest.

"Mommy," Shelby whispered, her voice breaking as she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her mother. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault."

Alice hugged her tightly, her hands trembling slightly. "You are not defined by what happened to you," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "That doesn't own you, Shelby."

Shelby closed her eyes, letting the warmth of her mother's words wash over her. "I know," she whispered, her tears falling silently.

Alice pulled back slightly, brushing a tear from Shelby's cheek. "You know... one of my students came to me a few days ago. She told me something that had happened to her. Something awful. And she said she found the courage to speak up because of you, because of your story."

Shelby blinked, her breath catching in her throat.

"No matter what happens in this campaign," Alice continued, her voice soft but steady, "That will be your legacy. You've already made a difference, my brave girl. You've already changed lives. And no one can take that away from you."

Shelby stared at her mother, her heart swelling with a strange mixture of pain and pride. She had spent so long trying to win this race, trying to prove herself, but maybe her mother was right. Maybe her legacy wasn't in the votes she won or the speeches she gave—it was in the people she had reached, the lives she had touched.

"Thank you," Shelby whispered, her voice thick with gratitude. "I needed to hear that."

Alice smiled, her eyes still shimmering with tears. "We'll always be here for you. No matter what."

Shelby nodded, feeling a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time. "I love you."

"I love you too," Alice said softly, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go.

---

Shelby stood at the doorway, her mother's words still hanging in the air, settling over her like a protective blanket. There was comfort in her mother's embrace, in the quiet wisdom she had shared. But the weight of the decision Shelby had made—the full impact of what she was about to do—still pressed down on her.

She took a deep breath and started walking back toward the bus parked now at the end of the road. The gravel crunched beneath her feet, the sound oddly soothing, as she steeled herself for what was to come. Her heart felt heavy, but not in the same unbearable way it had earlier. There was a different kind of weight now—one that came with clarity, and maybe even relief.

But as she stepped onto the bus, she could feel the tension thick in the air. Beth and Giselle sat at the small table toward the front, papers spread in front of them, their faces drawn with disbelief.

Beth looked up first, her eyes still filled with a mix of shock and quiet frustration. She had taken the news as best as Shelby could have hoped, but the disappointment was clear.

"So you're really going through with this?" Beth asked, her voice hushed but edged with disbelief. "You're dropping out tonight?"

Shelby nodded, though the words still tasted strange in her mouth. "Yes. I'm going to make the announcement at the final stop. I'll do a press conference afterward."

Giselle, always poised, had been quieter since Shelby told them earlier. Now she leaned forward, her brow furrowed, her phone resting on the table in front of her. "Shelby, I get it. I do. But the press is going to tear this apart. We need to make sure this is airtight before you get on that stage. Your speech, your statement—it's going to define how this ends."

Shelby exhaled, running a hand through her hair, feeling the weight of their words. "I know. I'll handle it. I'll tell the staff at the next stop. I'll make the announcement during the rally. You can handle the logistics with the press."

Beth still looked unconvinced. "You're sure? I mean, this is the last rally. We're going to have all eyes on us. We need to be prepared."

"I'm sure," Shelby said firmly. "I've made up my mind."

Beth and Giselle exchanged a glance, but neither of them argued further. They had spent the last hour in a state of shock after Shelby dropped the bombshell, but now they were forced to move into crisis-management mode. The reality was that their candidate—the woman they had spent months fighting for, strategizing for—was about to walk away.

Beth cleared her throat, looking like she still wanted to push back, but she bit her lip and sighed instead. "Alright. If you're going to do this, we'll need to get the team together, give them a heads-up before you go on stage. They deserve to hear it from you."

Shelby nodded. "I'll talk to them when we get there."

The bus rolled forward, the vibrations humming beneath Shelby's feet as the road blurred outside the windows. The final rally was only an hour away now, and every mile brought her closer to the moment she had been dreading—the moment when she would have to step onto that stage, look out at the crowd that had believed in her, and tell them it was over.

---

Shelby stepped off the bus, the cool breeze tugging at her hair as the chatter of the rally faded into the background. Beth and Giselle had already been briefed, but the shock of her decision still hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. The weight of it pressed down on her as she walked toward the makeshift campaign tent at the rally site, where she would soon meet with the team before going on stage for what would be her final speech.

The crowd beyond the tent was growing louder, their chants rising in excitement. This was supposed to be the final push before Election Day—a victory lap of sorts—but for Shelby, it felt more like a goodbye tour. She could feel it deep in her bones.

She reached for her phone, about to tuck it into her jacket pocket, when it buzzed again in her hand. The name on the screen made her stomach twist.

Rachel.

For a second, Shelby hesitated. She hadn't spoken to Rachel since their last tense conversation. But now, with everything on the line, she couldn't ignore the call. She answered, her heart already tight in her chest.

"Hey," Shelby said softly, her voice cracking slightly.

"Mom... is it true?" Rachel's voice was quiet but tense, like she was holding something back. "Are you really dropping out? Someone mentioned something in the group chat?"

Shelby swallowed, unsure how to even begin explaining the storm inside her. "Yeah, Rach. I am. I was going to call you before the rally, I swear, but—"

Rachel cut her off, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Are you dropping out because of me? Did I mess this up?"

Shelby's heart lurched. "No, no, no. My love, this isn't your fault. It's not about that."

"Then why?" Rachel's voice cracked. "I mean, I get it's been hard. But you're still in this, mom. You can still win. Why now?"

Shelby leaned against the side of the bus, her body heavy with exhaustion. "Rachel, you've been through hell these past few weeks. I can't put you through any more of this. The media... the pressure. It's not fair to you. And if I win… it just… it won't get any easier."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. "I'm not going anywhere," Rachel said, her voice softer but firm. "I can handle this."

"I know you can," Shelby said, her throat tightening. "But I don't want you to have to."

"I'm your daughter," Rachel shot back, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't want you to give this up because you're scared I'll fall apart. I won't. I'm stronger than that. My dads raised me to be stronger than that. You'll see."

Shelby blinked, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Rachel's words hit harder than she expected, the rawness of them cutting through the cloud of doubt that had settled over her.

"I never wanted this to hurt you," Shelby whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I know," Rachel said quietly. "But this isn't just about me. You've been fighting for everyone—people who don't have a voice, people like me who need to see someone like you stand up and not back down." There was a pause, and then Rachel's voice softened. "I'm proud of you. I'm so proud to be your daughter. I've been wanting to tell you that for so long."

Shelby felt something break inside her, like a dam giving way. She pressed a hand to her chest, willing herself not to fall apart.

"I'm still here," Rachel continued, her voice steady. "No matter what you decide. But please... don't walk away from this because of me. I need you to be the person who shows us it's possible to fight through all of this and still come out the other side."

Shelby's breath hitched. "Rachel... I don't know if I'm strong enough. I'm tired. I'm so tired.."

"You are," Rachel said, her voice full of quiet conviction. "You're the strongest person I know. You've been fighting your whole life, and I need you to keep going. Please don't stop."

Shelby didn't know how to respond. She could feel the tears slipping down her cheeks now, her hand gripping the phone so tightly her knuckles were white. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear this—how much she needed her daughter to remind her why she had started this fight in the first place.

But the exhaustion, the weight of the past few weeks—it was still there, bearing down on her. And though Rachel's words filled her with a sense of pride, they didn't erase the fatigue that had settled deep in her bones.

"I'll talk to you soon," Shelby whispered, her voice breaking. "I promise."

Rachel hesitated. "Okay," she said softly, but Shelby could hear the concern lingering in her daughter's voice. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Shelby whispered before hanging up. "I love you so much."

The phone slipped from her hand, and for a moment, she stood there, staring at the ground, her chest heaving with the weight of everything.

Rachel was right. Beth and Giselle were right. This was bigger than any of them. But she wasn't sure if she had anything left to give.

She wiped her eyes quickly, gathering herself as best she could. The crowd's chants grew louder as she approached the tent. She could hear Beth inside, briefing the staff, prepping them for what was about to happen.

As Shelby entered, heads turned toward her. Beth met her eyes, her expression tense. "Are you ready?" she asked quietly.

Shelby didn't respond right away. She wasn't sure she was ready. But she had to face it—one way or another.

"I'll make the announcement at the top," Shelby said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. "We'll hold a press conference immediately after."

Beth nodded, though her worry was still clear on her face. "Okay. We're with you."

Shelby glanced out toward the stage, the noise of the rally growing louder by the second. The crowd was waiting for her, cheering, believing she was still in this fight. But the truth was, Shelby still didn't know if she was.

---

Shelby took a deep breath as she stepped up to the podium, the crowd's cheers still ringing in her ears. The blinding lights and the roar of support were almost overwhelming, but she held onto the podium, steadying herself. This was it.

She cleared her throat, the microphone crackling slightly as her voice carried out across the sea of people. "Thank you," she began, her voice trembling slightly but growing stronger with each word. "Thank you all for being here tonight."

The crowd quieted, their energy simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for her to speak. Shelby glanced down at the notes she'd hastily written, but then something caught her eye—two young girls in the front row, their small hands waving homemade signs with her name. They looked at her with wide, expectant eyes, their mother smiling behind them, nodding in encouragement.

Shelby's heart tightened. She felt the weight of their hope, their belief in her. And as she scanned the crowd—families, union workers, teachers, students, nurses—she realized just how many people were counting on her. They weren't here just for her. They were here because they believed in what she stood for.

And in that moment, she knew she couldn't give up.

"I've been thinking a lot about this campaign," she started, her voice steadier now, "and what it means to be in this fight. I'll be honest with you—it hasn't been easy. There have been moments when I've doubted myself. When I've wondered if I had the strength to keep going. When I've questioned whether I was the right person for this."

She paused, letting her gaze sweep across the crowd. "But what I've learned is that doubt is part of the process. Fear is part of the process. Because this fight isn't easy. It's never been easy. But the fight is worth it. Not for me, but for all of you—for all of us."

The crowd quieted again, leaning in, hanging on her words.

"This campaign," Shelby continued, "was never about just winning a Senate seat. It's about something bigger. It's about the kind of future we want to build. And we're here because we know that Ohio deserves better than what we've had for the past few years. We deserve leadership that fights for everyone—not just the wealthy, not just the well-connected, not just the corporations."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, and Shelby felt the momentum shift.

"We deserve a government that works for the people," she said, her voice gaining strength. "A government that believes healthcare is a human right, not a privilege for the few. A government that will fight to lower prescription drug costs, protect Medicaid, and finally put an end to the corporate greed that's been driving families into bankruptcy just because they get sick."

She saw heads nodding in the crowd, saw the way people leaned in, listening. This was their fight, too.

"We deserve a government that fights for working people," Shelby went on, her voice rising with conviction. "A government that supports labor unions, that raises the minimum wage so that no one working full-time in this state has to live in poverty. A government that invests in our public schools, in our teachers, in the next generation of leaders, so that every child—every child—has the opportunity to succeed, no matter where they live or what their family makes."

The crowd erupted into cheers, the energy building.

"And we deserve leaders who understand that the climate crisis is not some far-off threat—it's happening now. We deserve a government that will invest in clean energy, in sustainable infrastructure, that will protect our environment for future generations instead of selling it off to the highest bidder."

The applause swelled again, and Shelby felt her own energy rising with it, a fire building in her chest.

"I know the system is broken," she said, her voice cutting through the noise. "I've felt it. I've seen it. And I know many of you have, too. You've seen politicians who don't listen. Who don't care. Who get into office and forget about the people who put them there."

She paused, glancing again at the two young girls near the front, and then sweeping her gaze across the crowd. "But I haven't forgotten. And I won't forget."

The crowd hushed, waiting for her to continue.

"This isn't just a campaign—it's a movement," Shelby said, her voice thick with emotion. "A movement for fairness, for equality, for justice. A movement for a better future—not just for me, not just for you, but for those little girls standing right there, and for every child growing up in this state who deserves to know that their government is fighting for them."

She felt a lump rise in her throat, but she pushed through it.

"It's been hard," she admitted, her voice wavering for a moment. "I won't lie to you—it's been so hard. There have been moments when I've felt jaded, moments when I've wondered if this system is too broken to fix. But every single time I've felt that way, you've reminded me why I keep going. You've reminded me why this fight matters."

Shelby paused, her voice softening as she leaned into the microphone. "I've seen your faces. I've heard your stories. And every single one of you has reminded me that this isn't just about me. It's about all of us. It's about what we can do together, when we refuse to back down."

The crowd was silent now, the anticipation hanging in the air.

"So, no," Shelby said, her voice rising again. "I'm not giving up. I'm not quitting. I'm not walking away from this fight. Because this fight is too important. This fight is for the future of Ohio. This fight is for our kids. For our communities. For our values."

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, but Shelby wasn't finished.

"So I'm asking you," she said, her voice carrying over the noise, "to keep fighting with me. I'm asking you to stand with me—not just tonight, not just on Election Day, but every day after that. Because we can't change this state, we can't change this country—if we don't do it together."

She stepped back from the podium, her heart pounding as the crowd roared with approval. The sound of their cheers washed over her, filling her with a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in days. This was what she was fighting for. This was why she couldn't give up.

Shelby stood there for a moment, letting the noise wash over her, a smile breaking across her face. She wasn't done yet.

Not by a long shot.

---

Election Day

It was still dark outside, the faintest hint of dawn just beginning to creep over the horizon. The dashboard clock blinked 6:45 a.m., and Shelby tightened her grip on the steering wheel as the radio crackled with static before the host's voice broke through.

"Polls across the state will officially open in about fifteen minutes," the host announced, his voice smooth but charged with the energy of Election Day. "And all eyes are on the hotly contested Senate race between Democratic challenger Shelby Corcoran and incumbent Everett Grayson. It's been a scandal-filled campaign, and according to the latest polls, it's anyone's race. Corcoran has closed the gap in recent weeks, with the final numbers showing a near dead heat. Experts are predicting it'll come down to turnout in Ohio's suburbs. Voters across the state are already heading to the polls, and we'll be bringing you live coverage all day..."

Shelby's fingers twitched toward the dial, and she turned the radio off with a flick of her wrist. "Okay, enough of that," she muttered, her voice still rough from the early hour.

Rachel, sitting in the passenger seat beside her, frowned and lowered her phone. "Hey, I was listening to that."

Shelby shot her a small smile. "You really want to listen to all that speculation?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, half-smiling back. "Maybe not. But don't you want to hear what they're saying about you? About the race?"

"Nope," Shelby said, shaking her head firmly. "I've heard enough. Whatever happens, happens. Right now, I'm just happy to be here with you." She glanced at her daughter, her heart swelling with pride and something deeper, something softer that she hadn't quite found the words for yet.

Rachel smiled a little, but her attention drifted back to her phone. She scrolled through her feed, the blue glow of the screen lighting up her face. "Are you excited to vote for the first time?" Shelby asked, trying to shift the focus.

"Yeah," Rachel said, though her voice was distracted. "I guess. It feels kind of surreal. I mean, you're running in the first election I get to vote in. No pressure, right?"

Shelby laughed lightly. "No pressure at all."

Rachel kept scrolling, her brow furrowing slightly as something caught her eye. "You know, if you lose today, there's already talk about the congressman in the district where you grew up retiring after this next term," she said. "People are already floating your name around. Maybe a nice congressional seat is in your future?"

Shelby raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at her daughter. "Really? The polls haven't even opened yet and you're already planning my next campaign?"

Rachel shrugged, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Just saying. You'd be a shoo-in. And I heard Beth and Jesse talking about it too."

Shelby rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh God, you've been hanging around them too much. Next thing I know, you'll be strategizing for me." She shook her head, laughing softly. "And for the record, can we at least get through today before planning my political future?"

Rachel laughed, finally setting her phone down on her lap. "Fine, fine. I'm just thinking ahead."

Shelby smiled and reached over to the radio again, switching it over to the Broadway station. The familiar sound of show tunes filled the car, bright and lively, and Shelby hummed along softly.

Rachel gave her a look but didn't protest. "Really?" she teased, though her tone was warm. "Broadway music? Now?"

Shelby grinned. "You love it. Don't act like you don't."

Rachel rolled her eyes again, but this time, the smile stayed on her face. "Okay, you've got me there."

They drove on in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the music filling the space between them. The sun was just starting to rise, casting a pale, golden light over the road ahead.

As they pulled into the polling station parking lot, Shelby spotted Beth and Giselle standing by the entrance, already talking to local reporters. A small crowd had gathered—press and early voters—and Shelby could see that Beth was busy juggling questions from journalists while Giselle kept everything running smoothly.

"Look who's here," Shelby said with a smile, nodding toward them as she parked the car.

Rachel looked over, then raised an eyebrow. "Oh, great. Can't believe you're using me for a photo op," she teased, but there was warmth behind the sarcasm.

"It's for the people, babe," Shelby joked back, flashing a grin as she turned off the car. "You're democracy's new favorite voter."

Rachel shook her head, laughing as they both stepped out of the car. "You and your campaign crew," she said under her breath, but the smile lingered.

Beth spotted them first, waving them over with an excited energy that almost made Shelby laugh. "There they are!" she called out. "Just in time! The media wants a quick comment before you vote."

Shelby groaned playfully but shot Rachel a knowing look. "See? I told you. You're part of the show now."

Rachel rolled her eyes again, but the smile on her face was genuine. "Fine," she muttered, stepping forward alongside her mom. "But after this, you owe me. Quid pro quo, Senator Corcoran."

Shelby put an arm around Rachel's shoulders and smiled down at her. "Deal."

As they walked toward Beth and Giselle, with the sun rising behind them and the energy of Election Day buzzing in the air, Shelby felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude—not just for this moment, but for the road ahead. Whatever happened today, she knew she wasn't alone. She had Rachel. She had her team. And, for the first time in a long while, she felt ready for whatever came next.

The future was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, Shelby felt hopeful. Whatever happened next, she knew they would face it together.

And maybe, just maybe, there was more fight in her yet.

---

The end.