Chapter 8: New Allies and New Beginnings

With Lucas gone, I had fewer people I could truly rely on.

Of course, the Chief of Staff’s office was at my disposal, but every matter had to be logged and reported—too restrictive.

There were still too few people I could use freely.

One day, dressed in plain clothes, I went to a coffee shop with Sam and overheard a commotion.

"The Weller family finally got a college-educated son-in-law, but the guy turned his back on them, saying he only agreed to the engagement out of desperation and it doesn’t count."

"What a jerk."

Listening in, I learned the daughter of the wealthy Weller family, who ran a logistics company, had fallen for a broke grad student. Her family, at her request, had supported him financially, waiting for him to finish school and marry her, so she wouldn’t be ridiculed as a businesswoman’s wife.

In this town, business folks are seen as less respectable than academics or public servants.

Businesspeople can’t become officials. No matter how rich the Weller family was, they couldn’t even run for office. Now, being played by a mere grad student, they could only swallow their anger.

Now, Brian Chen was publicly declaring he had nothing to do with Miss Weller, and someone was posting a breakup letter at the coffee shop, attracting a crowd.

"That Miss Weller is too restless. How dare a businesswoman’s daughter dream of marrying a grad student?" a young man in a letterman jacket sneered.

This drew angry stares from the crowd.

Some spat, some glared, and some chivalrously cursed him out loud.

Then a male voice laughed. "Well said."

"Business girls naturally don’t deserve to be academic wives. I hear Mrs. Quinn in the White House was also a businesswoman’s daughter. She didn’t marry Brian Chen—probably because he didn’t want her. In the end, when she meets Brian Chen’s wife, she’ll have to bow her head."

The coffee shop roared with laughter. The student was angry and embarrassed. "You—you’re Will Weller from the Weller family, of course you’d defend your sister!"

I turned slightly and saw a young man gently waving a fancy pen, ignoring the outburst. "Brian Chen hasn’t worked for over ten years, living off the Weller family’s money. If the engagement is off, the accounts should be settled."

He wore a designer jacket and gold watch, his pen engraved with his initials—a display of wealth. Will’s shoes were spotless, his watch catching the light just so—a walking billboard for old money. I wondered if he’d ever had to borrow lunch money.

He turned to the student. "Over the years, Brian Chen spent $36,000 of my family’s money. Since you speak for him, why not settle the bill?"

The student blushed; his clothes were plain—clearly, he wasn’t wealthy. "That’s ridiculous! How can I pay—"

I laughed.

"If you can’t pay, why are you speaking for him?" I smiled. "Actually, you should hate him most."

"Brian Chen lived well for over ten years and now leaves easily. This not only warns the girls but also their fathers. Such help in times of need won’t happen again: Brian Chen doesn’t need it, but what about you?"

The student turned pale. Will Weller laughed and nodded to me. "You’re sharp."

I smiled and nodded slightly.

The student was indignant. "I can get my degree, marry a good woman, and have a beautiful girlfriend! The Weller family are just money-grubbing businesspeople—how can they compare to me!"

I thought for a moment, then asked the young man in black, "Are you Will Weller?"

"The White House is holding a special internship program—open to all, regardless of background. Only talent matters. If you’re interested, give it a shot."

His eyes sparkled. "How do you know? Is the president’s kid really so open-minded?"

I smiled and didn’t answer.

I signaled Sam to leave, and as I left, I gently patted Will Weller’s shoulder.

"Will, can you get this news to the right people within three days?"

The bell above the door jingled as I stepped outside, sunlight washing over my face. There was the smell of roasted coffee and something else—maybe hope—lingering in the air.

Three days later, the announcement for the special internship was like a drop of water in boiling oil.

It set the whole city buzzing.

It was called a special internship because those selected wouldn’t be appointed to real positions right away—only assigned to the Chief of Staff’s office.

The Chief of Staff’s office was like the White House’s small court, but the president’s kid was still young, and the president himself was robust and likely to live for many years.

So taking the special internship didn’t seem very worthwhile.

Few were willing to spend years assisting a young leader, so most applicants were young themselves.

Since it was my program, I wrote the application essay myself.

With a bold stroke, I wrote: "academics, farmers, artisans, businesspeople."

Sam asked, "Is this a question?"

I shook my head. "No, it’s four."

Pick any one of the four and discuss your views.

No restriction on background, age, or gender.

In the end, Will Weller stood at the front of those selected.

I smiled at everyone. "Since you’re here, you’re all people of my team."

I was very satisfied with those selected. They were all young, though lacking experience, each was full of energy, and I looked around at my new team—hungry, untested, a little wild—and for the first time, I felt the future humming just beneath my skin.