They sat at a table overlooking the city, dining on food that was fresh and untainted—a true luxury in the post-apocalypse.
"You have to be perfect, Lucas," Helen said, her voice dropping to a serious whisper as she sipped a glass of vintage wine. "Etienne worked so hard to get you this. He put his reputation on the line. If you fail him, if you make him look bad... I won't even be able to look him in the eye."
Lucas let out a confident laugh, leaning back in his chair. "Don't worry, Mom. I'm going to climb that ladder so fast Etienne won't know what hit him. I'll be his right-hand man in no time."
He looked at his mother, noticing how the stress of the last year seemed to be melting away, replaced by a glow of security. He leaned in and gave her a playful nudge with his elbow, a wicked smirk on his face.
