Chapter 4 Power Games and Hidden Truths

The city lights blur beneath me, smudges of neon and streetlamps against darkness. My eyes burn. It's 1:15 AM and I should be home with Koda, but instead I'm watching Zari pace between my rooftop garden's olive trees like a trapped animal.

"Breathe," I tell her, my voice steadier than I feel. My third cup of water sits half-empty in my hand. No alcohol tonight. I need clarity. "The presentation isn't ruined."

Zari stops moving so abruptly I worry she might topple over. Her shoulders slump. At twenty-six, she's brilliant, driven, and currently disintegrating before my eyes.

"The Governor's Chief of Staff called our strategy 'juvenile' and 'naive.' In front of everyone." Her voice catches. "Three months of work. Three months, and he dismissed it in ten seconds."

I set my glass down on the stone table, buying myself a moment. Zari reminds me too much of myself at her age – before I understood how the game actually works.

"He called it juvenile because it scared him," I say, watching her face. "Men like Camden Burke don't respond well to being outthought by women they perceive as beneath them."

Zari's dark eyes narrow. "So this is about my age? My background?"

"It's about power." I move toward a bench and gesture for her to join me. "Burke has spent twenty years cultivating an image as the strategic genius behind Governor Reeves. Then you walk in with a plan that makes his approach look outdated."

She hesitates before sitting beside me, keeping a careful distance. Her perfume carries notes of jasmine and something sharper. Ambition, maybe.

"When I started Kingsley Consulting," I continue, "I made a mistake. I thought excellence alone would open doors. That if my strategies were better, more innovative, more effective..."

"Gender wouldn't matter," Zari finishes.

"Should be doesn't pay the bills." I rub my thumb against my index finger – a habit from childhood I've never managed to break. "I lost three major clients my first year because I didn't understand that half of our job is managing male egos while making them believe the ideas were theirs all along."

"That's–"

"Reality," I cut her off, but keep my voice gentle. "For now. Which is why we're going to repackage your strategy – which is brilliant, by the way – and have Wesley present it tomorrow."

Zari's spine straightens like I've shocked her. "Wesley? He didn't even contribute to the research!"

"Exactly." The words taste bitter, but they're true. "Wesley is mediocre but male, conventionally attractive, and speaks with unearned confidence. Burke will listen to him."

"That's not fair."

I almost laugh. Fair. As if that word means anything in boardrooms and backroom deals. "No, but it's effective. And once the strategy is implemented and succeeding, everyone will know who really developed it."

I reach into my bag and pull out a sleek folder. The leather is cool against my fingertips. "This is the Reeves campaign's internal polling. Their numbers with women under forty are catastrophic."

Zari blinks rapidly. "How did you get this?"

"I have my methods." The folder contains information that would get several people fired if traced back to its source. "The point is, they need your strategy more than you need their approval. By this time tomorrow, Burke will be convinced it was his idea all along."

A slow smile spreads across Zari's face as understanding dawns. "You planned this. Even Burke's reaction."

"I anticipated it," I correct her. "After fifteen years in this business, men like Camden Burke are disappointingly predictable."

The rooftop door scrapes open. Vivienne steps out, her silhouette sharply defined against the light from inside. Even at this hour, her posture remains military-precise. One look at her face and my stomach tightens.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says, voice professionally neutral. "Dr. Sengupta called again about Koda's test results."

My pulse jumps, but I keep my expression unchanged. Fifteen years of practice makes it automatic. "I'll be right there."

I turn back to Zari. "Go home. Sleep. Tomorrow, you'll sit quietly while Wesley presents your work, looking humble but confident. When Burke asks questions Wesley can't answer, you'll step in – not aggressively, but as support. By the end of the meeting, Burke will be asking for your input directly."

Zari tilts her head, studying me. "Is that how you built all this?" She gestures to the towering glass building beneath us. "Playing these games?"

Something twists in my chest – pride tangled with something darker. "I built this by understanding that perception shapes reality. Sometimes you have to work within a flawed system to gain enough power to change it."

She nods slowly, gathering her things. The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly the night air feels ten degrees colder.

Vivienne approaches, her steps nearly silent on the concrete. "You shouldn't be sharing our tactics with junior staff."

"She reminds me of myself," I admit. "Before everything got complicated."

"Everything was always complicated," Vivienne counters softly. "You just didn't know it yet."

My throat tightens. "What did Dr. Sengupta say?"

"The new treatment isn't working as hoped." Vivienne's voice drops. "He wants to try an experimental protocol, but..."

"But he needs complete genetic history."

"Yes."

The unspoken hangs between us. Koda's father. The past I've spent fourteen years burying.

My phone buzzes. The screen illuminates with a text from an unknown number:

*When you're done playing mentor on your rooftop, we should talk about your son's treatment options. Some things shouldn't wait. -T.L.*

I thrust the phone toward Vivienne, my hand suddenly unsteady. "How does he know where I am?"

For once, Vivienne looks genuinely alarmed. "I don't know."

"How long has he been watching?" My voice sounds strange in my own ears.

Vivienne takes my phone, examines it like it might explode. "We need to get inside. Now."

I take one last look at the city spread out below us – thousands of lights, millions of secrets. Somewhere out there, Tyler Leviné is watching. Waiting.

And my son is running out of time.