The light from the crystal chandeliers gradually dimd, and the clamorous background noise slowly faded away.
The guests began to leave.
Luxury cars ford a long line before the portico, their taillights streaking red through the darkness.
The elites, who had just been trading business cards on the dance floor and holding court by the buffet tables, now disappeared into their private vehicles, their faces showing either satisfaction or regret.
Saint Claude Manor fell quiet once more, but it was a more oppressive kind of silence.
Leo hadn’t left.
He had been asked to stay.
Evelyn led him through the empty main hall to a study in the manor’s west wing.
Dark walnut wall panels, entire walls of bookshelves, and a heavy Persian carpet.
Leo stood in the center of the room, in no hurry to sit, his gaze slowly sweeping over his surroundings.
Just then, Roosevelt’s voice sounded in his mind.
"Look at this room, Leo."
"This was once a man’s domain."
"The heavy oak furniture, the hunting rifles on the wall, and that lion-skin rug in the corner."
"This place was originally designed for old-fashioned gentlen in tailcoats and sideburns to sit wreathed in smoke, deciding the price of Pennsylvania’s rail freight or coal."
"This was a bastion of patriarchy."
"But now, its master is a twenty-eight-year-old woman."
Leo’s gaze shifted to the bookshelves.
In mansions like this, bookshelves were usually just for decoration.
They would be filled with handso, gilt-spined hardcovers—an Encyclopaedia Britannica, perhaps, or a shrink-wrapped collection of Shakespeare—all ant to project a cultural sophistication the owner didn’t actually possess.
But the books here were different.
Roosevelt guided Leo’s gaze.
"Look at those spines, Leo."
Leo took a few steps closer.
He saw the titles.
*The Morgan Consortium*, *The Birth of the Federal Reserve*, *The History of the Standard Oil Company*, *On War* by Clausewitz, *Diplomacy*.
And more specialized ones.
*Pennsylvania Coal Mine Safety Law*, *Tax Avoidance Structure and Legal Boundary of Trust Funds*, *Global Logistics and Supply Chain Managent*.
These books were not new.
The spines were creased, the covers worn. So were bristling with densely packed tabs between the pages.
"She’s actually reading them," Roosevelt said, a trace of surprise in his voice. "She’s using these books on monopoly, power, and how to exploit legal loopholes to accumulate wealth as her personal playbook."
"Now look at the desk."
A massive desk sat in the center of the room.
Evelyn went to the liquor cabinet, her back to Leo as she poured their drinks.
Leo took the opportunity to glance at the map spread across the desk.
It was a detailed map of Pennsylvania’s electoral districts.
But it wasn’t just marked with administrative boundaries. The map was studded with pushpins of various colors, connected by red thread.
Leo leaned in for a closer look.
Red pins were clustered in several key swing counties in the suburbs west of Philadelphia. Next to them, a string of numbers was penciled in—the average inco and debt-to-inco ratio for middle-class families in the area.
Blue pins were stuck in the industrial zones surrounding Pittsburgh, annotated with the local Union’s sphere of influence and records of recent strikes.
And black pins were jabbed into a few nondescript small towns.
Leo recognized those locations. They were ho to several major local newspapers and radio stations.
This was a battle map for controlling the flow of public opinion, money, and votes.
"Her control over this family runs deeper than I imagined," Roosevelt mused. "In an old-money family like this—two hundred years old, with a sprawling lineage, full of greedy relatives and incompetent elders—for a young woman to secure her position, bloodline isn’t enough."
"She has to be more ruthless than the n, more cunning, more adept at using the rules to her advantage."
"She’s probably already got a chokehold on the financial lifelines of every uncle and cousin who dared to challenge her."
Evelyn walked over, holding two crystal glasses.
Amber liquid swirled in the glasses, the ice cubes clinking crisply.
She handed one of the glasses to Leo.
Leo took the glass and looked at the woman before him.
In the dim light, her delicate, pale face looked cold and severe.
She stood before the massive desk, the bookshelves and map behind her like a backdrop for a throne.
In this room, so steeped in masculine decor, she didn’t look out of place in the slightest.
On the contrary, she commanded the room.
"Sit."
Evelyn pointed to the high-backed chair across the desk.
Her tone was level, yet it carried a habitual note of command.
Leo sat down.
"You’re a good dancer," Evelyn said. "But I’m guessing the waltz isn’t what’s on your mind right now."
"I’m thinking about you."
Leo answered honestly, his eyes fixed on the woman behind the desk.
Evelyn froze for an instant.
She raised her eyes, a frost instantly chilling their depths.
"I make you curious?"
"Yes." Leo leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over the study. "I was wondering what it feels like for a woman to be sitting in a position like this."
Evelyn scoffed.
"Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?"
Her voice was laced with challenge.
"Seeing a woman in the seat of power, seeing a woman wielding this family’s scepter... did it wound your fragile male pride?"
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