In the end, though, it got to her. At 2:30am on the night of Trump’s inauguration ball, dead drunk, dancing with Mercer she suddenly has an epiphany. “Bob and Bekah Mercer,” she thought, “now represented a new kind of force in American politics: wealthy donors with the money and the wherewithal to use their dollars in measurable, provable ways to make sure their expenditures produces some kind of return on investment.”
The “return” was Brexit and Trump. And she was part of it. So her book is some kind of penance for that.