Chapter 4

The whispers followed me as I moved away from them, a low tide of speculation and judgment. "That's her," I heard someone murmur. "The one who ran out on David Sterling. Looks like she's hit hard times." The story David and Bethany had crafted five years ago had become accepted fact, a piece of city folklore. I was the cautionary tale, the woman who had thrown away a golden future.

I found a quiet corner near a large window overlooking the city, nursing a glass of water. I wasn't angry. I was focused. Their attack was clumsy, fueled by ego. They saw the woman I used to be, not the woman I had become.

A few minutes later, David appeared at my side, alone this time. Bethany was across the room, holding court, no doubt recounting her "shock" at seeing me.

"Look, Amelia," David started, his voice low and condescending. "I don't know what game you're playing, but it's not a good look. Coming here, making a scene."

"I haven't said a word," I replied, my gaze fixed on the skyline.

"Your presence is a scene," he snapped, his charm beginning to fray. "Bethany is very upset. Seeing you brings back a lot of painful memories for both of us."

He paused, then his tone softened into a mockery of concern. "I meant what I said. If you need money, or a job... a real one, not whatever you've been doing... I can help. It's the least I can do for someone I once... cared about."

The offer was poison wrapped in pity. He wanted to own me, to turn me into his charity case, the final proof of his magnanimity.

I turned my head slowly to look at him. My hand, which had been resting on the small clutch I carried, shifted slightly. From the clasp of the purse dangled a small, unassuming charm. It was made of polished titanium, etched with a single, complex symbol: the insignia of Project Chimera. It was a piece given only to the project's core architects, a symbol of immense trust and authority within the national security community. It meant nothing to the corporate world, but to a select few, it was more powerful than any CEO's business card.

David's eyes flickered to it, but he saw only a piece of metal. It registered as nothing.

"I don't need your help, David," I said, my voice quiet but firm. I met his gaze, holding it until he was the one who felt uncomfortable. "I'm not here for you."

His jaw tightened. My refusal to be broken or grateful clearly irritated him. He was used to people fawning over him, begging for his favor. My indifference was an insult he couldn't process.

"Fine," he said, his voice turning hard. "Have it your way. But stay away from Bethany. She's been through enough because of you."

He turned to leave, but as he did, he deliberately bumped into my arm. It wasn't a hard shove, just enough to be deniable, but it knocked the glass of water from my hand. It shattered on the marble floor, drawing more attention to our corner.

"Clumsy," he muttered, not even bothering to look back.

But as I stumbled, my clutch fell from my other hand. It hit the floor with a soft thud, and the clasp sprang open. A single item slid out onto the polished floor, coming to rest near the toe of his expensive shoe.

It was my security badge for the summit. It was a VIP all-access pass, but that wasn't what mattered. At the bottom, in clear, official lettering, was my designation:

"Guest of the President's Office. Special Consultant - National Cybersecurity."

David stopped. He looked down. His eyes, trained to spot any shift in power dynamics, widened almost imperceptibly as he read the words. A flicker of confusion, a shadow of doubt, crossed his face for the first time. It was a momentary crack in his armor of arrogance.

He had just tried to humiliate and offer a pity job to a special consultant for the White House.

The game had just changed, and for the first time, he was beginning to realize he didn't know the rules.