The first thing that caught Claire Sinclair's eye was the headshot on the profile.
It was a photo of Adrian Quincy. His features were perfect, a divinely sculpted masterpiece without a single flaw. His expression was cold and unsmiling, his dark eyes radiating a natural, kingly aura.
'I'm so jealous of people who look just as handsome in their headshots as they do in real life…'
Wait.
'I think I'm focusing on the wrong thing.'
Almost everyone recognized this blue and white page—it was the official roster of presidential candidates, updated on this very day every five years.
'Adrian Quincy is running for president???'
'What the &*@%#…'
It felt as if a tidal wave was crashing through Claire Sinclair's mind.
Seeing the look on her face, as if she'd just seen a ghost, Henry Hartwell couldn't help but chuckle. "You've been married to Young Master Quincy for over half a year, haven't you? And you had no idea he was running for president?"
"H-He never told me…"
