Chapter 320: Chapter 157: The Long Election Night 4
"Stop writing."
Leo strode over, pressed down on Karen’s laptop, and snapped it shut with a CLAP.
"Don’t write that damned concession speech."
Leo’s voice was as cold and hard as iron, full of command.
"The election isn’t over."
Murphy, sitting to the side, gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
"Leo, I know you can’t accept this. But the data is right here. We’ve lost. We have to learn to make a graceful exit..."
"To hell with graceful!"
Leo spun around, his finger jabbing toward the screen.
"John, open your damn eyes and look!"
"Ninety-four percent!"
"That means a full six percent of the votes are still sitting in boxes, uncounted!"
"Do you know how many that is? With Pennsylvania’s high voter turnout this time, that’s at least a hundred thousand votes! A hundred thousand!"
Leo strode up to Murphy, leaned down with his hands on the sofa’s armrests, and stared directly into the man’s eyes, which were clouded by alcohol and fear.
"How far behind are you now? Only 1.2 percent."
"If we can just get sixty percent of those remaining hundred thousand votes."
"We can turn this around."
"We can win."
Murphy was stunned.
He looked into Leo’s blazing eyes. The fiery energy forcibly jolted his muddled brain awake, and the effects of the alcohol instantly faded by half.
But years of political inertia still had him subconsciously looking for excuses.
"But... Leo, you don’t understand." Murphy’s voice was weak. "The remaining ones are all provisional ballots."
"To salvage those votes, we’ll need an extremely tedious administrative review, maybe even lawsuits. That takes time, money, and..."
Leo looked at the old politician rambling on with his excuses and almost laughed out of sheer frustration.
’I really can’t believe this old fool.’
’Weak, cowardly. His first instinct when faced with a problem is to retreat.’
’But then again, if Murphy weren’t like this, if he were as aggressive as Monroe, how could I have him so completely under my thumb?’
It was precisely his weakness that gave Leo room to manipulate him.
It was because his ambition outstripped his ability that he was forced to rely on Leo.
Leo took a deep breath, suppressed the anger in his heart, and put on a more determined expression.
"Then we fight!"
Leo cut off Murphy’s complaints unequivocally.
"If they try to invalidate a worker’s ballot because of a messy signature, then we sue them for voter disenfranchisement!"
"If they try to silence a truck driver’s voice because of a blurry postmark, then we go to court and file for an injunction!"
"This isn’t a math problem, John."
"This is about a citizen’s rights."
Leo straightened up and scanned the entire campaign headquarters.
Seeing the dejected volunteers, seeing the staff members preparing to pack up and go home, he took a deep breath and suddenly raised his voice.
"Everyone, listen up!"
Leo’s roar thundered through the room.
"Anyone who doesn’t want to be here can get the hell out right now! I won’t stop you!"
"But for those of you who want to win, you keep your asses glued to your chairs!"
"This race isn’t over yet!"
"As long as the referee hasn’t blown the final whistle, as long as there’s still one box that hasn’t been opened, we have not lost!"
"How much have you all suffered these past few months? How many roads have you traveled? How many people have cursed you out?"
"Are you really content to admit defeat here? Are you really content to watch Monroe and his cronies pop champagne in Philadelphia?"
Leo walked over to Karen, his gaze intense.
"Karen, you’re the professional. You know what’s hidden in those ballots."
"Seeing Murphy just now made you want to give up too, didn’t it? You thought it was hopeless, right?"
"But think about it. If we just walk away, what was all your hard work over these past few months for? What was all our effort for?"
Karen looked at Leo.
’Yes, I should have thought of this myself.’
Disputed ballots, provisional ballots—those are variables in every election.
But just now, Murphy’s despair had infected her like a virus, making even a battle-hardened campaign manager like her waver.
But now, Leo had pulled her out of that emotional quagmire.
’Even if we still lose in the end.’
’At least we’ll fight to the very last moment.’
’At least we’ll have made it worth all those sleepless nights and all that coffee we drank over the past few months.’
Her once lifeless eyes lit up again.
It was the excitement of a professional campaign manager smelling blood in the water.
She abruptly pushed her chair back and shot to her feet, the movement so forceful it knocked over the water glass beside her.
"Understood."
Karen’s voice had recovered its usual crisp professionalism.
"I’ll contact the legal team and the volunteers right away. Also, we need to file for an emergency court injunction to halt any processing of provisional ballots until our observers are on-site."
"I’ll make sure every single counting station knows we’re watching them!"
Leo then turned to Ethan.
"Ethan, find out which counties that remaining six percent is concentrated in."
"If it’s our turf, like Allegheny County or the other western counties."
"Call the chairmen of their election committees."
"Use every connection, every resource we have on the local level."
"Apply pressure."
"Make them know we’re watching them."
Ethan nodded firmly.
"I’ll go check the data now."
Finally, Leo looked at Murphy.
The Senatorial candidate, who had just been preparing to write his campaign’s obituary, was now staring blankly at his allies.
"John."
Leo took the bottle of whiskey away from him and tossed it into the trash can.
"Go wash your face."
"Then put on your suit and fix your tie."
"Walk out in front of those cameras."
"Tell all the media, tell all your supporters."
"Tell Aston Monroe."
"We have not lost."
"Every single vote must be counted."
"Until the last vote is tallied, until the voice of every voter in this state is heard."
"No one should dare declare victory."
Murphy looked at Leo.
He felt a long-forgotten heat surge through his veins.
It was hope.
And ambition.
He got to his feet, swayed for a moment, then steadied himself.
He straightened his shirt, his gaze turning resolute.
"Alright."
Murphy said.
"Let’s go tell them."
"This fight isn’t over yet."
Leo watched as the campaign headquarters buzzed back to life.
The atmosphere of decay and despair from moments ago was completely swept away.
"Mr. President," Leo asked in his mind, "can we really win this?"
"Are there really enough votes in that six percent?"
"Who knows."
Roosevelt’s voice also carried a gambler’s edge.
"Maybe there are, maybe there aren’t."
"But at least we still have a seat at the table."
"And as long as you’re at the table, anything is possible."
