Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt-Chapter 110 - 76: Under the Spotlight

Pittsburgh TV Station Building, backstage at Studio Four.

The dressing room door was ajar.

Karen stood in front of Leo, her hands adjusting the knot of his tie.

"Listen, Leo," Karen said quickly. "The first round of questions is usually about the economy. If he attacks your budget deficit, don’t get bogged down in the details. Pivot directly to the employment rate. Remember the numbers you memorized yesterday—the 7.2 percent unemployment rate. That’s his Achilles’ heel."

She took a step back to inspect the lapel of Leo’s suit and spotted a few nearly invisible specks of dust.

She immediately reached out and flicked them away with her fingernail.

Ethan sat on the makeup counter nearby, clutching a stack of dog-eared index cards.

"And the issue of public safety," Ethan added without looking up. "Even though Director Miller was dismissed, Carter Wright will definitely bite back, claiming your radical proposals have demoralized the police force. You have to emphasize community policing reform. Cite the success story in Philadelphia. The data is on card 42."

In the corner, Frank was fidgeting. His large face was flushed, and his thick fingers continuously rubbed the fabric on his knees.

The small room, filled with mirrors and lights, felt suffocating—even more uncomfortable than standing in front of a steel furnace.

"This damn place is freezing," Frank grumbled. "Did they turn the AC down this low on purpose to freeze us out?"

"It’s to keep you from sweating," Karen explained without turning around. "Under several kilowatts of spotlights, you’ll start glistening like a Thanksgiving turkey. The low temperature helps your makeup stay on."

Leo sat in the makeup chair, letting the makeup artist pat his face with a powder puff.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror.

The young man who once fretted over his debts in the library was gone.

The man in the mirror wore a black suit, his hair was impeccably styled, and his chin was clean-shaven.

His gaze was calm, even a little detached.

It was the face of a politician.

After Karen’s hellish training regimen, Leo felt as if his body had become a weapon.

His mind was stuffed with data; his muscles had memorized the precise force of every gesture.

But he didn’t feel nervous.

The pressure that made Frank fidget and the anxiety that made Ethan ramble were completely absent in him.

Because deep in his mind, another soul was sitting in a wheelchair, smoking from a cigarette holder, and watching everything with a relaxed attitude.

’Look at them, my boy,’ Roosevelt’s voice sounded in his head. ’Your team is more stressed than my wartime cabinet. That young fellow, Ethan... if you don’t get him to shut up, he might short-circuit your brain before the debate even starts.’

Leo chuckled to himself.

He raised a hand and gently pushed the makeup artist’s hand away.

"That’s enough," Leo said, his voice steady. "Thank you."

He stood up and adjusted his cuffs.

"Karen, Ethan, stop for a moment."

They both froze.

"I’ve memorized the data, and I understand the strategy," Leo said, looking at them. "Now, I need some quiet. I want to clear my head before that light comes on."

Karen stared at Leo for a few seconds.

She recognized the state she knew so well, the one that belonged to top performers—focused, yet relaxed.

She closed the folder in her hands.

"Alright," Karen said. "You’re on in five minutes. We’ll wait for you in the hallway."

She pulled a still-dazed Frank along with her and led Ethan out of the dressing room.

The door closed.

Leo was alone in the room.

He looked at his reflection, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

’Are you ready, Mr. President?’

’I’m always ready,’ Roosevelt replied. ’This is just a small affair. Compared to the speech to Congress on the day of Pearl Harbor, compared to the round table at Yalta, this is nothing more than a tea party.’

A knock came from a staff member outside the door.

"Mr. Wallace, it’s time to be on standby."

Leo pushed open the door and walked out.

The corridor leading to the studio was long, narrow, and dim, with only a glaring red light shining at the far end.

A thick carpet covered the floor, muffling all footsteps.

At a bend in the corridor, Leo stopped.

Another door opened.

A group of people emerged, surrounding a tall figure.

Martin Carter Wright.

This was the first time the two had come face-to-face at close range since the "Lawn Incident."

Carter Wright wore an expensive, custom-tailored suit, its cut perfectly concealing his slightly paunchy figure.

His face was caked with thick TV makeup, hiding the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the dark circles brought on by recent anxiety.

His hair was dyed a lustrous black and neatly combed back.

Upon seeing Leo, Carter Wright stopped in his tracks.

His aides automatically stepped back, clearing a space between them.

It was the classic "clash of rivals."

In the final moments before taking the stage, the two main contenders were about to engage in one last psychological bout backstage.

"Mr. Wallace," Carter Wright began, his voice low and laced with a condescending pressure. "Nice suit. I can tell it’s rented, but at least it fits."

Leo said nothing, merely watching him calmly.

Carter Wright took a step forward, closing in on Leo.

"I hope you’ve memorized your script, young man."

"Tonight isn’t some reality show like the one you put on at the lawn. There are no fans here for you, no mindless cheering. This is the world of adults."

"On this stage, every mistake is magnified ten thousand times. I’m going to peel back your childish theories layer by layer and show everyone in Pittsburgh the straw man hiding inside."

"The adult world is cruel, Leo. I hope you don’t run off the stage crying tonight."

This was classic pre-game trash talk.

The old Leo might have been enraged by such a blatant provocation or intimidated by the man’s presence.

But now, looking at this middle-aged man who was all bluster and no substance, what came to Leo’s mind was the story Roosevelt had told him about his little dog, Farah.

He found it comical.

The man before him wasn’t some all-powerful Mayor.

He was just an anxious old man, caked in makeup, terrified of losing power.

Leo smiled.

Instead, he took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

The move made Carter Wright flinch, and he instinctively started to lean back.

Leo reached out and gently placed a hand on Carter Wright’s left shoulder.

There was a speck of what might have been cigarette ash from the break room.

Leo brushed it off for him.

"Mr. Mayor, you too," Leo said, his voice gentle and polite. "The adult world is indeed cruel, especially for those who have been in their position for too long."

Carter Wright’s body tensed. He had completely unexpected this kind of reaction from Leo.

Leo withdrew his hand, his gaze drifting down to Carter Wright’s collar.

"By the way."

Leo gestured toward Carter Wright’s neck.

"Your tie is crooked."

He said it casually.

"That’s not very becoming of an adult, especially a Mayor."

With that, Leo gave Carter Wright a nod, turned, and strode past him toward the door leading to the stage.

Carter Wright stood frozen, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

He subconsciously raised a hand to his tie.

The tie wasn’t actually crooked.

But in that instant, his confidence was.

The overbearing, invincible aura he had so carefully constructed was utterly shattered by Leo’s nonchalant remark and simple gesture of brushing away dust.

He had intended to crush Leo with his presence, but instead, Leo had turned the tables and humiliated him.

"Damn it."

Carter Wright cursed under his breath, flustered as he adjusted the perfectly fine tie.

His heart was racing.

The dynamic had subtly reversed.

Leo reached the curtain at the stage entrance.

The roar of the crowd outside seeped through the heavy velvet fabric.

The venue was filled with five hundred hand-picked audience members, and on the other side of the cameras, hundreds of thousands of Pittsburgh citizens were watching from their homes.

The director’s voice came through the earpiece.

"All units, stand by."

"Live broadcast countdown."

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

The moment the curtain was drawn, the spotlights flared like an explosion.

In that instant, Leo’s vision went white.

The noise in his ears, Karen’s instructions, Ethan’s data, Carter Wright’s threats—all of it vanished in that moment.

The world became utterly silent.

Leo felt as if he were in a massive vacuum.

And in that absolute silence, Roosevelt’s voice resounded.

It carried a weight that transcended time, a fatherly warmth, and the unique resolve of a leader.

’Go on, my boy.’

’Don’t treat this like an exam.’

’Don’t think about those damn statistics, and don’t pay any mind to the cameras.’

’Treat this as one of your fireside chats.’

’Imagine you’re sitting by the fireplace in that prefab office, holding a cup of hot coffee.’

’And across from you are Michael, Joe, Margaret—every single person who works hard to make a living in this city.’

’Tell them what you think.’

’Tell them why you’re standing here.’

’Tell them you love this city, and you want to make it better.’

’Right now, all of Pittsburgh is listening to you.’

Leo took a step, striding onto the stage.

He didn’t intentionally strike a tough pose as Karen had taught him, nor did he flash a standard eight-toothed smile as the body language expert had demanded.

He simply walked naturally, his arms swinging loosely at his sides.

He walked to his podium and stopped.

At the podium opposite him, Carter Wright also took the stage.

Carter Wright’s steps were somewhat stiff; he was still subconsciously fiddling with the knot of his tie.

Leo turned his head and glanced at Carter Wright.

Then, he turned toward the camera in front of him, toward the live audience, and smiled. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

The moderator picked up the microphone. "Good evening, Pittsburgh, and welcome to the live mayoral debate."

The first round of the clash was about to begin.