Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 333 - 163: Steel and Gold

"No."

Leo shook his head, his tone calm.

"I’m not some male chauvinist. I don’t care if the person sitting across from me is a man or a woman."

He stood up and walked over to the bookshelf.

"But I am a realist."

"For two hundred years, the rules here were made by men. The games here were played by men."

Leo turned and looked at her.

"This world, especially the world of power, was never made for women."

"Those old men, those bankers, those uncles and grand-uncles in the great families. They’re used to seeing women as ornaments in a ballroom, not as decision-makers at the negotiating table."

Evelyn’s fingers tightened slightly around her wine glass.

"So?" she asked coldly. "Are you trying to say I’m not worthy?"

"Quite the opposite."

Leo walked back to the table. He braced his hands on its surface and leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

There was no contempt in his eyes, no mockery.

"What I’m trying to say is, to fight your way through a pack of wolves and tigers like that, to find your footing in a game completely dominated by male-made rules, and to even crush them under your heel..."

Leo’s voice dropped low.

"To be standing here now... you must have suffered a great deal, haven’t you?"

Evelyn froze.

She had been ready to counter Leo’s skepticism, ready to mock his prejudice.

But this was the one thing she hadn’t prepared for.

’Suffer?’

’Who would ever ask if the eldest daughter of the Saint Claude Family has suffered?’

People only saw her wealth, her power, her frighteningly ruthless methods.

She had long grown accustomed to the fear, jealousy, and even hatred of others.

But now, this young man from Pittsburgh had seen through her hard shell of armor to the unhealed scars beneath.

This wasn’t pity.

Pity is charity given from the strong to the weak.

This was understanding.

The understanding of one beast for another, both having struggled through the same mire.

Evelyn looked at Leo.

She took a deep breath, raised her glass, and drained it in one gulp.

The harsh liquid burned down her throat, helping her regain her sense of control.

"You’re a very perceptive man, Leo."

Evelyn set down the empty glass.

"In this position, pain is a necessary price to pay."

"It’s good that you understand that."

"Now."

Evelyn reached out, pointed at the map on the table, and abruptly dragged the conversation back on track.

"Put away your psychoanalysis. Let’s talk about Murphy."

"His approval ratings in the west have already peaked." Evelyn’s finger drew a circle on the eastern side of the map. "If he can’t make a breakthrough around Philadelphia, the votes from Pittsburgh alone won’t be enough. The general election will still be a toss-up."

Her long fingers tapped gently on the bottom right of the map, on the counties surrounding Philadelphia.

"Montgomery County, Bucks County, Chester County."

Evelyn recited the names.

"These places are known as the ’Collar Counties’ of Philadelphia. For the past thirty years, they’ve been a Republican Party stronghold. The people who live here are wealthy, conservative, and hate taxes."

"But things are different now."

Evelyn’s finger traced an arc across the map.

"The demographics are shifting. The older generation of conservatives is retiring and moving to Florida. Young, highly-educated families are filling the vacuum. They care about education, the environment, and are disgusted by extreme social conservatism."

"Warren’s base here has already started to loosen."

Evelyn looked up at Leo.

"The problem is, the candidates the Democratic Party sent in the past were too stupid. They tried to win over the urban poor by raising taxes, and ended up scaring away the suburban middle class."

"Murphy is different."

"His Rust Belt New Deal might sound radical, but its core is infrastructure and job creation. That’s acceptable, even attractive, to suburban voters."

"As long as we can cut off Warren’s fearmongering on cultural issues, and as long as we can control the media narrative in Philadelphia and flip these counties blue, Warren is finished."

Leo listened to her analysis, inwardly shocked.

He had originally thought Evelyn was just a family heiress skilled in capital management, an aristocrat looking down on the world from the clouds.

But her understanding of electoral districts, her insight into demographic shifts, and even her grasp of voter psychology were all profound to a degree that astonished him.

"You’re very interested in politics?" Leo asked.

"I’m not interested in politics," Evelyn replied. "I’m interested in control. Politics is just one means of achieving it."

Roosevelt’s voice echoed in Leo’s mind.

’Leo, get her on your side.’

’She’s the other half of your puzzle.’

’You have the soil. You have the workers of the South District, the angry masses, that raw power that grows from the dirt.’

’She has the sun. She has the capital, the prestige, the password to move through the highest echelons of society.’

’Soil without sun, and the seeds will rot in the ground. Sun without soil, and you have a castle in the sky.’

’Only by combining them can you grow a towering tree.’

Leo’s hand tightened around his glass.

He understood what Roosevelt meant.

But a wave of resistance rose within him.

"Miss Claude..."

Leo began.

"Saint Claude."

Evelyn interrupted him.

Her voice wasn’t loud, but the way she defended her family name was unquestionable.

"My family name is Saint Claude."

"It represents two hundred years of history. It represents the first pioneers who came to this land."