Chapter 4: Blood and Bonds

---

Looking out from the study, late autumn leaves lay thick, squirrels busy storing food for winter. I also planned two paths for myself: one to escape, one to be brave.

The window glass was cold beneath my fingertips. I watched the city bustle, the squirrels darting among fallen leaves, and felt a kinship with their frantic preparations. The distant hum of traffic and the faint smell of roasting peanuts from a street cart grounded me in the moment.

I could not be a coward, and knew I could not hide forever, so I chose bravery. But would it be great or small bravery?

I wrote the word ‘brave’ in one stroke on the back of a napkin.

The ink bled through, a black mark on the pristine linen. It felt like a promise to myself.

A faint heat seemed to burn all the way up my spine. I narrowed my eyes, feeling an unprecedented excitement and trembling, as if discovering a new game.

If I am to be brave, then let it be great bravery—rebellion.

The word tasted dangerous, electric. I smiled, heart pounding. This was the real me, the one who thrived on risk.

The decline of the Callahan Administration was inevitable; this once-prosperous nation had long been hollowed out by corruption. Not even two more wise presidents could save it, let alone the current clueless leader and his useless sons.

Every headline, every whispered rumor, confirmed what I already knew: the time for change was now.

Power would be redistributed—better for me to seize the country.

If the world was going to burn, I’d rather hold the match.

I carefully concealed my abilities. The world only knew the Midwest General’s only daughter was like her father—a wildcat, born with grit. But they did not know I also took after my maternal grandmother, whose intelligence was almost supernatural.

I kept my cards close to the vest, letting them underestimate me. It was the oldest trick in the book, and it worked every time.

When I was a child, my grandmother would pinch my nose, saying my clear eyes most resembled hers. Everyone flattered her, envying the richest woman in Atlanta for doting on her granddaughter. She would whisper mischievously in my ear, “Audrey’s so smart, she could be President or Queen.”

Her voice still echoed in my mind, a secret encouragement that made me stand taller, even when the world tried to shrink me. The memory of her Southern drawl and the scent of peach cobbler in her kitchen gave me courage.

Thus, I possessed the only token of my maternal family, which allowed me to command any business and any private security team. No one knew she had given it to me—not even my uncle, Mason Brooks.

The locket around my neck was more than jewelry; it was power, pure and simple.

Now, it was time to use it. I took out a finger-thick black stone from my silver locket, examined it carefully, and found the name “Brooks” engraved at the base.

The stone was cool and heavy, a promise and a threat. I traced the letters with my thumb, remembering my grandmother’s smile and the sweet tea on her porch in Atlanta.

Still, I needed a puppet—to push onto the high platform, to help me secure D.C. I considered my options and finally settled on Henry. Only he was the one I understood best, and the easiest to control—gilded on the outside, rotten within.

He was predictable, a man who thought he was playing chess when he was really just a pawn.

Choosing him, I felt most at ease. He was not even a tenth as brave or wise as my father—foolish, venomous, and completely unaware.

I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

---

Of course, he alone was not enough—I had too few loyalists. Even if I bought off more White House staff, what then? Today they could be bought by me, tomorrow by someone else. They followed me for survival, but I could not stop them from seeking another master for the same reason.