↳ You’re supposed to hate the woman. Isn’t that the standard trope? The seductress, the slut, the tramp who led your man astray. And I do. I loathe Olivia Pope. But it’s a boring sort of hate. Uninteresting, cliche. It’s hard to even get my back into it. But Fitz? I found him. I cleaned him up after that monster who raised him damaged his spirit. I am the one who told him he was someone. I am the one who cheered him on and listened to him ramble about his hopes and his dreams. I am the one who focused him. I did all the work. I did all the work and now she gets to reap the benefits? No. No, I made him. He exists because I say he exists.
“Cyrus, if Fitz goes public with this divorce, I will go nuclear. I will walk out in front of the press, and I will explain to them that my marriage is over because while I was pregnant with his child, my husband was having an affair with Olivia Pope. I will leave him, and I will take his children with me. I will take every penny he has in the bank and every dollar of political capital that he has in this town. I will court feminist groups and mothers groups and religious groups. I will bury him. And I will dance on his grave. And then? I will run for office.”