ADRIEN'S POV
The car stops before the steakhouse. The sun has already set, the sky already dark — and in New York, all these closed-door deals happen in darkness.
"Richmond Johnson is our main target tonight. He received a bribe of twenty million dollars from Ashcombe to pass a law in Congress that allowed them to move freely through a loophole and dominate." Angel speaks with familiar calm.
"And it was Oliver Ashcombe who orchestrated this after being assigned as Regional CEO of Ashcombe Tech's Asia Pacific branch." Beatrice adds, flipping through a file in her hand.
187 days ago, everything about my life changed. Rosie has healed, but a scar remains on her stomach. My mother — or should I say, my aunt — has reached out a few times. Apologising.
Saying she didn't mean it that way. My father has yet to say anything, and I haven't asked anyone about it.
But that night… something died. The version of me that had existed for thirty-four years — the one who lived and died for family, who trusted family above everything — it died that night, leaving behind a shell of a man with nothing and no one left to protect.
I stepped away from Beatrice. Not because I wanted to. Because a part of me — the nineteen-year-old who once let go of Theodore's hand for a sin he committed to survive and avenge his mother — didn't have it in him to take her from Theodore. The woman he loves.
Even for me, the idea of Theodore being in love with Beatrice is something far too strange, and somehow painful. But I suppose this is just how it is.
I have hurt her.
I have pushed her into danger.
I forced her into situations that made her cry.
I don't deserve her. If this version of her — the one who exists beside me as my advisor, as someone I can trust in a world where I've lost too many people to truths that were kept from me — is all I get, I will accept it willingly and live with it.
And besides… I think I was only ever infatuated with her. With her fire and her bravery. With how different she is. But that feeling never fully bloomed. If things hadn't gone downhill after that day in the forest, maybe they could have been different. Maybe I would have fallen in love with her, instead of just feeling territorial.
What is love, anyway? I don't know anymore. The version of love I thought was real is no longer something I can rely on.
We step inside the private room. The walls are dark wood hung with artwork that costs a fortune; the air is thick with cigarette smoke. My eyes narrow at the man seated at the far end of the table — surrounded by congressmen who are supposed to be the leaders of this nation but are nothing more than rotten, corrupted bastards funded by conglomerate families chasing profit.
Richmond Johnson. Forty years old. A greedy bastard with salt-and-pepper hair he doesn't bother colouring. Grey eyes sharp with greed and corruption. Tall and broadly built beneath a tailored navy suit.
Senator of California. Son of a former State Treasurer. Harvard Law. A public image so clean that people fawn over him. By any measure, this man is a prized catch for the White House.
His eyes land on me and he stands, a wide grin breaking across his face. "Aurélien, I've been waiting for you."
Richmond's loud greeting is familiar. I put on my usual mask of indifference. "It's been a while, Senator."
He walks over and claps me on the back. "Jesus, you make me feel old. I'm still Ricky to you."
I nod and take my seat at the head of the table. The congressmen around me begin congratulating me on the new energy deal I closed with China, all of them licking my feet — but my target is Richmond.
Beatrice sits to my left. She has improved drastically since day one. More composed. Sharper. Sweeter-tongued and more dangerous.
The same people who once questioned my judgement for choosing her as my advisor are the ones who now praise her, butter her up, all to gain access to me.
Richmond glances at her. "Hmm. I've heard quite a bit about Aurélien's new advisor. That must be you."
Beatrice sips her wine with a quiet grace that doesn't quite belong in rooms like this. Because whatever else you say, men have dominated this field for centuries and grown far too comfortable with women who either bend to their will or harden themselves — rough and masculine — just to be taken seriously.
But Beatrice Kanz is something else entirely. Feminine. Her own woman. She doesn't bend, and she doesn't harden herself for anyone's approval.
She smiles like a sunflower. Wears her makeup like a woman who simply loves being a woman. And these men, more often than not, underestimate her for it.
She looks at Richmond, blinking slowly. "Yes, Senator. I've always seen you on television. You're far more impressive in person."
Her voice runs smooth as honey. Beatrice has always had a soft voice — she's simply learned, over the past six months, how to wield it.
Richmond blinks, caught off guard by the sincerity in her tone. "Oh. That's very sweet of you, Ms…?"
"Kanz. My surname." She tilts her head slightly, hair falling soft against her shoulder. "But you can call me Beatrice."
Someone chokes on his drink. The corner of my mouth wants to twitch into a smirk, but I'm not about to ruin the evening.
Richmond grins. "Then you'll call me Ricky. Anyone Aurélien trusts gets that much."
Beatrice laughs softly. "I'd say that's my greatest credential. Aurélien doesn't trust easily, after all."
I give a small nod and scan the room. Richmond shifts forward almost instinctively as Beatrice begins talking — praising a recent initiative he championed in his state, something about lowering the tax rate and strengthening job security.
Richmond's chest puffs with pride. Even a greedy bastard like him does something good once in a while, if only to stay in power — and being appreciated for it is the sweetest reward of all.
Beatrice gasps, covering her mouth. "You actually got into a fight with your colleague over that?"
Richmond nods, suddenly animated, hands flying. "I know, right? She was like, no, it's not happening. Does that even make sense?"
Beatrice shakes her head firmly. "Absolutely not. Not everyone cares about the citizens of this country the way you do, Ricky. We need more people like you in the White House."
Richmond grins ear to ear, the tension slowly draining from his body. Beatrice leans in a little closer, her eyes bright with interest. "You know, there's something that's been weighing on my mind lately." She sighs, quiet and tired.
Richmond's expression sharpens with concern. "What's been making you look so worn out, Beatrice?"
The other congressmen ease their own conversations, leaning in slightly.
Beatrice pouts just a little. "Recently, I ran into a dispute with someone from Ashcombe Tech. They were trying to absorb my proposal to acquire a company called Cloud RX — a firm focused on integrating technology into modern housing development. It's an open auction, so everything should be fair. But…" She trails off.
Someone says, "Are they bribing the authority?"
Beatrice nods slowly, cutting into her steak like a woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Richmond says, "So you mean… you need me to do something about it?"
The room goes quiet. Richmond is an old hand in spaces like this — attending closed-door meetings alongside his father since he was fifteen. Of course he catches the undertone.
I sit up slightly, ready to move into the real business of the night.
But Beatrice looks up from her plate. Brown eyes wide and full of innocence. Richmond goes still.
"What? No, not really," she says softly. "I was only curious what you would have done in my position, Ricky."
Richmond blinks. He clearly wasn't expecting that.
I almost frown. What is she doing?
"That's… it?" he asks.
Beatrice nods. "Yes, Ricky. You see…" She looks down at her plate again, something vulnerable in her voice. "I may be Aurélien's advisor, but I'm not from a powerful family, and I don't have years of experience navigating situations like this. Working this closely to someone like Aurélien…" She sighs softly. "I'm always trying to learn from people like you."
Richmond's fingers tighten around his glass. His jaw works. He is melting in real time.
Beatrice tilts her chin up, her expression open and guileless. "Smart. Kind. Generous."
Someone at the far end of the table covers his mouth to keep from laughing — because none of those words describe Richmond Johnson.
Sly. Greedy. Self-serving. That's what he is.
But Richmond looks like he wants to be the man Beatrice just described.
"I—"
"It's alright if it's too complicated," she says, beginning to pull back. Richmond shakes his head.
"No. I want to help you." He leans forward. "I have connections that can pull you out of this. What they're doing — bribing the authorities to disrupt a legal auction — that's a problem I can handle."
Beatrice's eyes go wide. She claps her hands together once. "Really?" Then her voice drops. "But… won't it cause trouble for you?"
Richmond laughs. "Please. I'm Richmond Johnson, Beatrice. Stopping a group of people from corrupting a legal process? That's just part of the job." He grins.
A deep, quiet pride spreads through my chest. I meet Richmond's eyes. "I'll keep that in mind, Senator."
He looks at me and nods warmly. "We're family friends, Aurélien. This is nothing."
The night grows darker. Two more matters are resolved — each one going exactly as I'd planned. Or better since openly I didn't have to pay them millions in bribe. Just some gifts. A watch here, a yacht there.
Beatrice keeps every man in that room hooked on her spark, her innocence, her curiosity. All of it performed. She couldn't care less what any of them think.
Back in the car, Angel glances over her shoulder, something between amusement and approval in her eyes. "Boss — Richmond has already instructed his assistant to contact the authorities overseeing Cloud RX and pressure them to stop accepting bribes from Ashcombe. The route for our shipment to China with reduced regulatory oversight has been approved. And the rare earth agreement with government officials is now on the table."
She looks at Beatrice. "You had those old bastards hanging on every word."
Beatrice hums and looks at me, perfectly even. "The bonus you promised — that's still coming through, right?"
"Yeah. Your account will be updated." I hold her gaze. "Anything else?"
Outside of rooms like that one, Beatrice doesn't smirk. Doesn't perform. Doesn't play. Over the past six months, I've noticed it more and more — how much colder she's become. How much more detached from everything.
She shakes her head and turns to look out the window. "You can't give me what I actually want. Money will do."
No. I can't.
And that makes me want to pull her back toward me — but I know better. This infatuation of mine is not something she wants.
And never will.