Chapter 52
And then Adam strolled in ten minutes late, iced coffee in hand, folder visibly untouched. He walked like he owned the room. Like this wasn’t bizarre. Like he hadn’t just been shoehorned into something that wasn’t his. Everyone paused.
It was so weird–him being here. Awkward in a way that didn’t have a name. He hadn’t been part of this project. He hadn’t earned his place. He didn’t belong in the dynamic, or the cause, or the fight we were all deeply buried in.
I couldn’t stop wondering: How had Jenny even convinced Richard to do this? What pressure had she used, what strings had she tugged? Was there something I didn’t know—some deal, some past promise? Was Richard playing an angle I hadn’t seen? Or had Jenny blackmailed him somehow? It felt like we were missing part of the game–and Adam was the piece being slid across the board without explanation.
He nodded toward the screen like he was settling into a casual brainstorm. Like he was just another name on the roster. But everyone else knew better. We all did.
“Okay, so hear me out,” he said, settling into a chair and spinning once. “We do branding. Like, movement slogans, maybe a color–coded badge system, hashtags. Something polished. Eye- catching. Viral.”
I blinked at him.
“This forum is about substance,” I said, voice steady but sharp. “If you want clicks, pitch a dating
app.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than it should’ve.
One of the youth reps quietly put their pen down.
Adam flushed. “I was just brainstorming.”
“We’re building representation. Not a marketing campaign.”
Jenny stood, visibly seething. “You’re not being reasonable.”
“I’m being honest. And I don’t have time to waste.”
She stormed out. Adam didn’t say another word the rest of the meeting.
That night, I paced my suite like a ghost. The frustration wouldn’t leave my bones. My third lap ended with the soft sound of a door opening.
“You look like you’re about to start biting railings,” Richard said, appearing in our shared doorway.
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I didn’t try to laugh it off.
“Jenny’s pushing her way into every conversation, Adam’s dead weight, and the only thing people are whispering about more than David’s campaign is me. And I don’t get it–I don’t get how you let this happen.”
“Why him?” I asked. “Why now?”
His eyes flicked to the floor, then back to me. “It’s done.”
That was all he said. No explanation. No justification. Just a full stop. And the look on his face made it clear: he wasn’t going to elaborate.
So now I’m left wondering what game we’re all playing. And who’s already lost.
He stepped closer, gaze steady.
“You’re not here because of whispers. You’re here because you’re the best at this. I trust you. Keep doing it your way.”
Our hands brushed. Not quite touching, like always. Then the moment passed.
The next morning, Emma cornered me between back–to–back calls.
“David met with the elder council. He dropped a line about ‘conflicts of interest in Richard’s team.‘ It was vague–but pointed.”
“Toward me.”
“Toward both of you. Be careful. We don’t even know how much they know.”
“There’s nothing to know!”
I updated every log, saved my edits to two separate servers, backed up every email.
That afternoon, I returned to my suite and nearly tripped over a folder someone had slid under the door.
Inside: yellowing war records, old scanned documents, and at the back–a handwritten note.
Clearwater didn’t die in battle. Start with Sector Delta.
The air left my lungs.
I stood there in silence for a full minute, rereading the words, until my hands stopped shaking.
Then I slid the folder into my notebook, squared my shoulders, and walked back to the planning
room.
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Richard looked up from a stack of reports. Our eyes met and held.
And for a second, everything else dropped away.
No politics. No pressure. Just him.
And he wasn’t going anywhere.
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Chapter 53
Chapter 53
