"Just look at the options they’re giving Pennsylvania."

Warren held up one finger.

"On one side, you have John Murphy."

"A radical who just stands on a truck and shouts. A utopian who thinks he can solve every problem by printing money."

"His head is full of the same impractical socialist fantasies as Sanders. He thinks that if you just start up the printing presses, steel mills will spring from the ground like Magic."

A wave of derisive laughter rolled through the audience.

Then, Warren held up a second finger, a hint of pity even showing in his eyes.

"And on the other side, you have Aston Monroe."

"That Philadelphia elite, the Vice Governor in his thousand-dollar suit."

"He’s like a pre-programmed robot, only capable of reading scripts written by his PR team."

"Have you ever seen him get angry? Have you ever seen him laugh? No."

"He doesn’t even dare take a stand on any controversial issue. Look at how he acted when Philadelphia’s crime rate was soaring. Look at his silence in the face of the energy crisis."

Warren suddenly raised his voice.

"Weak!"

The word seemed to explode from his chest.

"That’s the only word to describe him."

"Monroe represents the weakness that’s in the very bones of the Democratic Party’s Establishment Faction. They’re afraid of offending the radicals, and they’re afraid of offending their donors. They just want to please everyone and coast by."

"Pennsylvania needs a strongman. It needs a fighter who can protect our families in this world full of crises."

"Not some spineless coward who’s afraid to even speak loudly!"

In front of the TV, Leo stared at the screen, his brow slightly raised.

"Mr. President, did you hear that?"

Leo said in his mind.

’He’s helping us.’

Roosevelt’s voice rang out. "Warren is a veteran. He knows how to destroy a person."

"He calls Murphy a radical, a socialist. To Republican voters, those words are flaws. They’re a boogeyman."

"But to the angry voters in the Democratic base, to the Union members who are desperate for change, ’radical’ means daring to fight, and ’socialist’ means benefits."

"Warren is helping Murphy solidify his left-wing persona."

"But look at the judgment he passed on Monroe," Roosevelt said. "Weak."

"In politics, you can be bad, you can be stupid, you can even be greedy."

"But you absolutely cannot be weak."

"Once a politician is labeled as weak, half of their political career is over."

"Voters can forgive a robber, but they will never forgive a coward."

Something was very wrong.

On the screen, Warren was still accepting the applause of the veterans in the audience, a calm smile on his wrinkled face.

Leo’s brow furrowed. His intuition was screaming at him.

’Warren’s been in politics for thirty years. He understands the logic of a party primary better than anyone. Doesn’t he know that attacking Monroe for being weak will directly damage Monroe’s image with swing voters and push those votes our way?’

’Why would he do that? To help us?’

Before he could delve deeper into the discussion with Roosevelt, his phone rang.

The ringtone was particularly jarring in the late-night office, like an ominous alarm.

Leo glanced at the number.

It was Murphy.

He answered the phone, trying his best to keep his voice steady. "John, did you see Warren’s speech? The old fox is handing us a weapon. He’s up to no good, but this is exactly the opportunity we need..."

"Leo..."

John Murphy’s voice came through the receiver, filled with despair.

Leo’s heart sank.

"What happened?"

"It’s over."

Murphy’s voice was trembling.

"Just now, the chairman of the Democratic National Committee called me personally. The Senate Majority Leader was on the line too. They held a conference call."

"They gave me an ultimatum."

"They’re demanding that I officially announce my withdrawal from the race."

"And... that I unconditionally support Aston Monroe."