Tripp van der Bilt wanted to do good.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

The truth was more complicated. Politics was a battlefield of compromise, hidden agendas, and whispers that cut sharper than knives. Every choice he made came at a cost. Every victory demanded a sacrifice he didn’t want to admit.

You noticed it first. The way he hesitated before every meeting, the flicker of doubt behind his polished smile, the silent toll it took when he believed no one was watching.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said one evening, handing you a folder full of campaign documents. “This isn’t the world for someone like you.”

“And what kind of world is this?” you asked, meeting his gaze. “One where you lose yourself in the name of power?”

He flinched, but didn’t look away. “It’s… complicated.”

“That’s just an excuse,” you said softly. “How much of yourself are you willing to lose just to stay in control?”

Tripp leaned back in his chair, exhaustion in his posture, tension in his jaw. “Sometimes it feels like everything. Every ideal, every promise—I have to bend it, twist it, sell it… just to survive.”

“You don’t have to survive like that,” you challenged. “You can do this the right way. Or at least… the way that doesn’t make you hate yourself.”

He laughed—bitter, low, almost painful. “Right. Because integrity wins elections.”

“And maybe it should,” you said firmly. “Maybe winning isn’t worth anything if you can’t live with yourself afterward.”

For a long moment, silence hung between you.

“You’re dangerous,” he admitted, voice rough. “Because you remind me who I am. Not what I’m supposed to be, or what people want me to be—but who I actually am.”