Before I knew it, I was tossing the keys to the hotel valet. I ran to the front desk and asked the clerk what room the press conference was in.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh my God! You’re her!”

Gasping for breath, I pleaded, “Can you please help me?”

“They’re in the Lafayette Room,” she said, and when she glanced over my shoulder, her expression hardened with resolve. “There are reporters behind you. If you go to the right, there are stairs beyond this wall. Go to the third floor and you’ll see it.”

“Thanks.” I gave her a smile and took off as quickly as I could.

The stairs felt like they were unending as I hustled, taking them two at a time, which was a challenge wearing a dress. When I saw the gray door with a large number three on it, I slammed into the metal bar to open it. I rushed down the narrow hallway until I saw a door labeled LAFAYETTE. There weren’t any people around, which I thought was odd, but I didn’t care.

When I yanked the door open and stepped inside, I was in the back kitchen area. A few cooks and wait staff gave me curious looks as I walked quickly through the kitchen, acting as if I belonged there.

When I pulled the door open to the ballroom, I saw Drake. My breath hitched in my throat, and my pulse thundered in my ears as I drank in the sight of the man I loved.

Drake approached the front of the room with confident strides. He fisted his hand in front of his mouth and cleared his throat before he gripped the top of the lectern. With his shoulders thrown back and his expression relaxed, he addressed the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to thank you for taking time out of your schedules to be here on short notice today.” His chest rose as he took in a deep breath.

“Our forefathers set in place the foundation for a great nation. What we stand for—the land of the free and home of the brave—is what I firmly believe in, and has been how I’ve tried to live my life. I love our country and take pride in my responsibilities as your senator. There was a time I didn’t think anything could be more important than being a politician, but then I met Lucy Washburn.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, sure it was about to burst as I listened to him. All I wanted to do was run out and tell him I was here, but I didn’t.

“Recently there have been news articles relating gossip circulating about her. Reporters have been following me and my friends and family, asking who she is, calling her the mystery woman.” He paused. “They write about her as if she doesn’t care about life—but she does.”

He looked around at the crowd, locking eyes with one person after another. Cameras clicked, and bright lights flashed from the photographers kneeling in front of him, trying to get a money shot.

“Lucy Washburn isn’t a public figure. She’s a schoolteacher—a very good one, in fact—and is one of my closest friends.” Frowning, he shook his head. “Actually, that’s not true, she’s more than that to me. You see, I happen to be in love with her, and due to her relationship with me and my position, she’s been thrust into the spotlight. And that’s unfair.”

All air escaped me and I stepped forward to run onstage, but was stopped when a hand gripped my arm. Startled, I glanced behind me to find Mason holding me back. I hadn’t even known he was here yet, but was so thankful for his presence.

When he shook his head and whispered, “Give him a few minutes,” I nodded and stood with him to watch the rest of Drake’s speech.

“Since I was a young boy,” Drake continued, “all I’ve ever wanted was to serve my country, to fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. I wanted to be the voice of many who entrusted me with their votes. Along the way, I’ve always been honest with you and have run a clean campaign. To me, it was most important for my constituents to focus on what I stand for and what I believe in, rather than what my opponent does wrong.”

His demeanor sobered, and a flash of anger crossed his face before he crushed it. “But this has gone too far, and someone I love is being hurt in the process, forced to sequester herself so curious journalists don’t attack her. She’s hiding rather than living.”

He glanced down, lowering his voice as he repeated, “Home of the free, land of the brave.”

Looking back up, he continued. “Free, that’s what Lucy was until she met me and was thrust into the spotlight. I won’t have her reputation tarnished by speculation of who she is and where she came from. Bravery isn’t just fighting for your country, it’s standing up for what you believe in, and that’s the type of person Lucy Washburn is. I respect her and the privacy she’s entitled to. As much as I love what I do, I love her more, and for that reason . . .”

That’s it. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I knew what was coming next, and I couldn’t allow it. How could I live with myself if Drake gave up his dreams for me?

I rushed toward the podium, and when Drake saw me approach him on the makeshift wooden stage, his head turned.

His eyes wide, he covered the microphone with one hand. “What are you doing here?”

I smiled and walked up to the lectern, forcing Drake to step aside as I lowered the microphone to my level. It screeched with the movement, and once I was satisfied, I scanned the reporters who were watching, some gazing at me openmouthed as others whispered among themselves.

“I apologize for the interruption.”

Hundreds of lights flashed from cameras, making it hard for me to see. Louder chatter filled the room, but I needed to continue. I swallowed the lump in my throat and composed myself. I’d been rushing around, and was sure I was glistening from the fine sheen of sweat that covered my skin.

“Hello. My name is Lucy Washburn. There have been questions about Senator Prescott’s dedication to his office because of me. I can’t and won’t stand idly by and let this man’s name be dragged through the mud because of me. He’s one of the best men I know, the best senator I’ve ever seen, and hopefully one day he’ll be the president of the United States.”

I glanced at him before returning my attention to the audience, and caught the eye of the vile reporter from the National Reveal who had started this nonsense, making sure to emphasize my thoughts.

“You’ve asked me questions and I’ve avoided them, but I had my reasons. But my reasons are selfish, and not good enough for Senator Prescott to continue with his speech as planned.”

“Lucy . . .”

I heard the concern as Drake said my name, but ignored him. “You see, he was going to come here today and renounce his candidacy.”

The audience erupted into chaos. I held my hand up to try to mute the noise, but it didn’t work very well, so I just continued and raised my voice.

“Not because he doesn’t want to serve the office, but to protect me.”

I glanced at Drake and when our eyes met, he shook his head.

Turning back to the microphone, I said, “You wanted to know my story, and I’m here to tell it. I want to put the mystery behind the mystery woman to rest. My name is Lucy Washburn, but that wasn’t the name I was born with . . .” With my heart in my throat, I told them the same story I’d told Drake and his family.

The audience tittered as Drake placed his hand on my shoulder and gently tried to pull me back, but I remained rooted to my spot.

When I glanced out to the crowd, and most of the women were nodding while the men remained impassive.

I continued to block out the cameras and noise, taking comfort instead from the hand Drake rested on the small of my back.

“When I told this wonderful man next to me my story, he didn’t judge me or feel sorry for me, he supported me because that’s what he does. That’s who he is. He fights for those who can’t fight for themselves. He’ll fight for you the same way he fought for me, and that’s why I can’t let him go through with this.”