Chapter 25

Amelia

The first day of the summit was finally here.

We arrived at the summit compound just after dusk, the final stretch of the secured convoy winding through steep mountain roads and thick Silverpine forest. The air smelled like pine and stone and frost, even though it was technically spring. The further we got from the capital, the quieter it became—until the noise of the outside world disappeared entirely.

It took three hours from the city, but the last one felt like five. Convoy speed restrictions, layered checkpoint protocols, perimeter scans every fifteen minutes. No one said it aloud, but we all knew why it was so strict. This wasn’t just about diplomacy—it was about deterring enemies.

The compound itself sat low and fortified, blending into the ridgeline like it had grown there. Cold concrete corridors, mirrored security glass, the faint buzz of energy shielding layered around the property. The architecture was practical and imposing, with zero regard for comfort or charm. Every hallway echoed like it was keeping secrets.

Sleeping arrangements had already been set by the time we arrived. Council aides and general staff were assigned to the central residence hall—bland, efficient, shared common areas and rotating security passes.

But I wasn’t going there.

Instead, I was assigned to a high-security suite in the west wing. Adjoined to Richard’s.

Technically, that adjoining suite was meant for the Beta. But Nathan had quietly agreed to trade with me after the healer’s recommendation came through. Only four people knew about the switch: me, Richard, Nathan, and Simon. Emma knew too, but Richard didn’t know she did—and I wasn’t planning to tell him.

On paper, it was for practical reasons—healing support, contingency planning, quick response. It was all true. His condition had improved significantly with me nearby, and Simon had emphasized more than once that distance wasn’t just inconvenient anymore—it was dangerous. I’d been the one to push for it when the scans came back unstable. Richard resisted at first, said it might not be appropriate. But in the end, we both knew there wasn’t a choice.

Still, secrecy mattered. We agreed not to use the external door unless absolutely necessary. Richard would never step foot in my side of the suite. I would leave at odd hours, use alternate corridors, keep my badge visible, my posture neutral. I’d pretend like my room was just a workspace, nothing more. It would be a weekend of calculated movements and careful silence.

No one here was stupid. But as long as we played our parts exactly right, maybe no one would ask. Maybe no one would look too closely.

Because we both knew what it would look like if they did.

And the kiss hadn’t helped.

I tried not to let it get to me. Tried to remind myself that my work had earned me this placement. That Richard’s recovery depended on proximity. That I had done nothing wrong.

But as we stepped into the cold-lit halls of the west wing, I couldn’t shake the feeling that every glance that landed on me had a silent question behind it.

My bag was already inside when I arrived. The butler had been efficient. Too efficient. I got the sense he didn’t like me much. That maybe he knew the blue leather bag hadn’t belonged to Nathan.

David, Richard's biggest rival, arrived just after the first strategy brief. I caught sight of him from the overlook above the courtyard—his signature coat, that unreadable smile. A chill crawled down my spine before I even saw who was behind him.

Jason.

I didn’t freeze this time. I turned, kept walking, but my pulse thundered in my ears.

I hadn’t seen Jason since the day he was removed. Since the day Richard’s voice had gone cold with fury and mine had nearly broken from the weight of what was said.

He hadn’t just disappeared—he’d defected. Rumors said he went to David within days, spilling everything he knew: passwords, routines, interpersonal dynamics. Selling off bits of our world to the highest bidder. A traitor, through and through. He traded loyalty for leverage, security for a seat at David’s table, and now he stood here, smug and untouchable, acting like he hadn’t betrayed us all.

Now he was here. Brazen, confident, watching.

I was assigned to process David’s team for entry. Jason didn’t approach me directly—didn’t have to. His silence said enough.

David, though, wasn’t as quiet.

He caught me just outside the east wing elevator, voice slick with false charm.

"You’re getting quite cozy with the King," he said, his voice slow and dripping with mock concern. "It’d be a shame if the press got ahold of the rumors I’ve heard—about the way you look at him. Makes one wonder what kind of qualifications you really needed for the job."

I said nothing. The worst part was that I knew staying silent wouldn’t protect me. But I couldn’t give him more.

He leaned in slightly. "I could ruin you with one whisper. They’ll hear Clearwater, then we’ll both find out what they remember.”

Before I could figure out what that meant, Richard stepped into view from a side corridor.

"Is there a problem?" His voice was ice.

David turned, all smiles. "Not at all. Just catching up."

David left like he hadn’t just threatened me.

Richard didn’t follow. He looked at me instead. "Are you alright?"

I nodded once. Tight. "You shouldn’t have to deal with that," he said.

"Then don’t let him near me again."

Word of the confrontation spread around our team faster than I expected. No one brought it up to my face, but I saw it in the way people stood closer around me. Nathan brought me into his logistics team without explanation. Emma didn’t ask questions—she just started walking me from meeting to meeting.

Solidarity didn’t always come loud. Sometimes it was a coffee on my desk or a printout already highlighted before I could ask for it.

But the whispers kept growing.

One evening, as I stepped out of Richard’s suite and back into the corridor, the butler caught my eye. His mouth twisted. "You must think you’re clever."

I didn’t even flinch. Just looked him straight in the eye. "I’m just dropping off a file."

The next morning, David started hovering. It was subtle. Intentional. He brushed too close in passing, always just enough to make it look accidental. He leaned in when he didn’t need to, close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck as he commented on files he had no reason to be reviewing. He paused behind me when I was seated, standing just a second too long before pretending he’d been called away.

It wasn’t just about power—it was about showing me he could take up space around me whenever he wanted. That he knew no one would stop him unless I made a scene.

And every time he lingered too close, I caught the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Like he knew the rumors too. Like he wanted to make me question what people were already whispering: that I was Richard’s pet, that I was hopelessly in love with him. That one day he might take advantage of that.

I logged every instance. Documented it cleanly. Then sent the file to Emma and Nathan.

Richard called me in not long after.

"I can pull you off that post," he said.

"If I leave that post, he wins."

He didn’t respond, but something flickered behind his eyes. Pride, maybe. Or guilt.

That night, while reviewing the updated summit debate schedule, I found my name moved. A last-minute change.

Assistant Liaison. Final Debate. Seated directly beside David’s representative.

I grabbed a red pen from my folder, circled it once, then underlined it twice.

"Let’s see who blinks first," I whispered.