The afternoon sunlight poured into the Randolph house as Georgia fussed over her hair in the mirror, her Southern charm dialed up to the max. She had a dress to match the occasion—a chic, bold number that screamed sophistication with just a hint of don't mess with me. It was the day of the governor election event at the city hall, and Georgia wasn't about to let Holt Scotto ruin it for her.

Paul Randolph leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching his wife prepare with a mix of amusement and concern. "You're sure he's going to be there?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," Georgia said, carefully applying lipstick. "Holt's the type to show up just to gloat. I'd bet my favorite pair of heels he'll be there."

Paul chuckled. "And you're this worked up because...?"

"Because," Georgia snapped, turning to face him, "the last time he had a position of power—harbormaster at Deception Island—he turned it into his own little circus."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Technically, it was Snake Horse Harbor, which is part of Deception Island."

"Same difference," Georgia said, waving him off. "The point is, he was a nightmare then, and he'll be a nightmare now if he gets elected."

"Do you really think people will vote for him?" Paul asked, grabbing his jacket.

Georgia snorted. "Paul, this is Holt we're talkin' about. He's probably got half the town bamboozled with his fake charm and Cadborosaurus nonsense. Trust me—he'll be there."


As they drove to the city hall, Georgia's confidence grew, though her irritation at the thought of seeing Holt also simmered just beneath the surface. When they arrived, the place was packed. Locals, elected officials, and citizens from all over had gathered for the event, creating a lively buzz of conversation.

Inside the hall, Georgia's eyes immediately scanned the room. Among the crowd, she spotted familiar faces. Joe from the Blue Farm Café was chatting with Katie Firestone and Jenna Deblin, all three of them clearly supporting a candidate who was not Holt. Joe raised a hand in greeting when he saw Georgia and Paul enter.

But then Georgia's gaze landed on someone she didn't expect: Ellen Baker, Marcus Baker's mom. And, to Georgia's shock, Ellen was standing near the corner with a Holt campaign pin proudly displayed on her blouse.

Georgia stormed over, dragging Paul with her. "Ellen," she said, forcing a smile. "What's this I see?"

"Oh, hi, Georgia," Ellen said brightly. "Are you here for the event?"

"Of course I am," Georgia said, her tone sweet but tinged with suspicion. "But I couldn't help but notice... you're supportin' Holt?"

Ellen nodded, looking genuinely puzzled. "Yeah, he's got great ideas for the community. Why?"

Georgia blinked, stunned. "Ellen, do you have any idea what that man has done?"

Ellen frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Where do I even start?" Georgia said, throwing up her hands. "The man sabotaged my car, threw crabs on my lawn, screamed at me through a megaphone in a speedo—he's a menace!"

Ellen gave a polite laugh, clearly not buying it. "Georgia, come on. Holt's... quirky, sure, but he's harmless."

"Harmless?!" Georgia's voice rose an octave. "Ellen, he's a nightmare wrapped in a Hawaiian shirt! And now you're tellin' me you're supportin' him?"

"Well, I haven't seen anything you're describing," Ellen said coolly. "Maybe it's just a misunderstanding."

Georgia glared at her, incredulous. "Oh, it's not a misunderstanding. It's a full-blown circus, and he's the ringleader."

Paul gently tugged at Georgia's arm. "Maybe we should let it go, hon."

Georgia huffed but let herself be pulled away, muttering under her breath about betrayal and bad decisions.


The event began with much fanfare, speeches from various candidates, and polite applause from the crowd. Georgia couldn't focus. Her eyes darted around the room, waiting for Holt to make his inevitable grand entrance.

And then it happened. The results were announced: Holt Scotto had won.

The room erupted in mixed reactions—some cheers, some groans, and one audible gasp from Georgia.

"You've got to be kidding me," she whispered, her fists clenching.

Holt took the stage, grinning from ear to ear, his harbormaster-esque suit somehow making him look even more insufferable. He adjusted the microphone, his voice booming with faux sincerity.

"Thank you, Wellsbury!" Holt began, spreading his arms dramatically. "I couldn't have done this without your support. Together, we'll bring a new wave of leadership to this town."

Georgia's blood boiled as Holt's eyes scanned the crowd—and then landed on her.

"And, of course," Holt continued, smirking, "a special shoutout to my neighbor, Georgia Randolph. She's been... instrumental in pushing me to be my best. Let's hear it for her!"

The crowd chuckled politely, unaware of the jab. But Georgia wasn't having it. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Excuse me!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the noise. "But are we really gonna let this man stand up here and pretend he's some kind of hero?"

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to Georgia as she marched toward the stage.

"This man," she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Holt, "is nothin' but a fraud. He sabotaged my car, terrorized my family, and thinks throwin' crabs on someone's lawn is a joke!"

Holt raised an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. "Georgia, please. Let's not make this about personal grievances."

"Oh, it's very personal," Georgia shot back. "You're a menace, and you have no business representin' this community!"

Paul and Joe rushed to her side, trying to calm her down. "Georgia," Paul whispered, "this isn't the time."

Jenna joined them, placing a hand on Georgia's shoulder. "He's not worth it," she murmured.

But Georgia wasn't done. She turned to the police officers stationed at the back of the room. "I have proof of his wrongdoings. Sabotaging my car, trespassing, harassment—arrest him!"

The officers exchanged looks before approaching the stage. Holt's confident demeanor faltered as they reached for him.

"What's going on?" Holt asked, his voice panicked. "This is ridiculous!"

"Sir, you're under arrest for multiple counts of harassment and property damage," one officer said, cuffing him.

"This isn't over, Georgia!" Holt yelled as they led him away. "You'll regret this!"

Georgia smirked, her victory sweet as she followed them to the door. Just before Holt was loaded into the police car, she raised her hand and flipped him the bird.

"Not today, Holt," she said with a grin. "Not today."

As the car drove away, Paul, Joe, and Jenna stood beside her, shaking their heads in disbelief.

"Well," Joe said, breaking the silence. "That's one way to handle an election."

Georgia beamed. "I told y'all. Never underestimate a Randolph."