The bistro was one of those places where the menu didn't have prices and the water was served in crystal goblets that weighed more than a textbook. It was busy, filled with the lunchtime rush of professors, donors, and students with parents rich enough to foot the bill.
But in the center of the room, there was a pocket of silence.
Senator William Sterling sat at the best table by the window. He wasn't looking at the menu. He was smiling at a waiter who looked terrified, charm radiating off him like heat from a pavement. He was a handsome man, aging with the kind of grace that money bought—silver hair perfectly coiffed, a suit that cost more than a car, and eyes that were the exact same shade of icy blue as his daughter's.
Sienna stopped at the hostess stand. Her hand tightened around Roman's arm.
"He's in a good mood," she whispered, though she sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "He's smiling."
"He smiles before he bites, Sienna," Roman said. He didn't slow down. He guided her through the tables, his body shielding her from the room.
As they approached, the Senator stood up. It was a performance. Heads turned. People whispered. *There's the Senator. There's the daughter.*
"Princess," William Sterling boomed, opening his arms.
Sienna stepped into the hug. It looked affectionate to the room, but Roman saw the way her shoulders hiked up. The Senator squeezed her, kissing her cheek, then pulled back to inspect her.
"You look tired," he said immediately. The smile didn't drop, but the eyes went cold. "And that top is a bit... loose, isn't it? We talked about structure."
"It's silk, Dad," Sienna said, forcing a laugh. She sat down quickly. "It's supposed to drape."
"If you say so." The Senator turned his gaze to Roman. The temperature at the table dropped ten degrees. "Roman. I see you're still acting as my daughter's shadow."
"Senator," Roman nodded. He didn't sit immediately. He pulled out Sienna's chair, waited for her to settle, then took the seat next to her. He didn't shake the man's hand.
"And where is our third wheel?" The Senator checked his watch. A platinum Rolex. "Punctuality is a virtue, even for scholarship students."
"She's here," Sienna said quickly, pointing toward the door. "She had a shift at the library."
Maya was weaving through the tables. She was wearing the blue cashmere sweater Sienna had told her to take. It fit her well, softening the sharp edges of her exhaustion. She walked with her head down, avoiding eye contact with the room, until she reached the table.
"Sorry I'm late," Maya said. Her voice was steady, but her hands were clenched around the strap of her bag.
"Nonsense," the Senator smiled. He gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Sit, Maya. You look healthy. The campus food must agree with you."
Maya sat. "Thank you, sir."
"And that sweater," the Senator noted, his eyes lingering on the fabric. "That's Sienna's, isn't it? From the Aspen trip last winter?"
Sienna jumped in. "I lent it to her. She was cold."
"Generous," the Senator murmured. He picked up his napkin and unfolded it. "It's good to see charity in action."
Maya didn't flinch. She just stared at the white tablecloth. Roman kicked her foot gently under the table—a silent signal. *Don't engage.*
The waiter appeared, nervous and sweating. "Can I start you with drinks, Senator?"
"I'll have a sparkling water with lime," Sienna said.
"She'll have the Pinot Noir," the Senator corrected effortlessly. He didn't even look at Sienna. "And bring a bottle for the table. The '18. And we'll order food now. The salmon for the girls. Roman can have the steak. I'll take the sea bass."
He handed the menus back. He hadn't asked anyone what they wanted.
The waiter scrambled away.
Sienna picked at her cuticle. "I actually wanted the salad, Dad."
"You need the protein, Sienna. You're looking thin. The camera adds ten pounds, but it doesn't fix gaunt cheeks." He turned to Maya. "How is your mother, Maya? I haven't seen her on the grounds for a few days."
Maya looked up. Her jaw was set so tight a muscle ticked in her cheek. "She's working hard, sir. The estate is a big property to manage."
"It is," the Senator agreed. He took a sip of his water. "She's a diligent woman. Very... accommodating. I was thinking of moving her to the main house full-time. The quarters are getting old, and the commute from the back gate is unnecessary in the winter."
Maya went still.
Roman watched her. He saw the way her breathing stopped. Moving her mother to the main house meant she would be under the same roof as him twenty-four hours a day. It meant no escape.
"I don't think that's necessary," Maya said carefully. "She likes the privacy of the quarters."
"It wasn't a question, Maya," the Senator said softly. He smiled, showing perfect, white teeth. "It's a promotion. She'll be closer to her work. It makes things easier for everyone.
The waiter arrived with the plates. The timing was impeccable, breaking the tension before it could settle.
The Senator didn't speak while the food was placed. He waited until the waiter poured the wine.
"Roman," the Senator started "Your father tells me the Vane Group is acquiring the waterfront properties in District 4. Risky move."
"It's a long-term play," Roman said, keeping his voice neutral. He was cutting his steak, but his eyes were fixed on the Senator's hands. "The zoning laws are changing next year."
"Ah. Insider knowledge." The Senator smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Tell Arthur I admire his... foresight. Though he should be careful. Zoning laws are political. And politics can change overnight."
It was a warning. A reminder of who actually held the power in the city. Roman didn't flinch. He just took a bite of his steak.
"I'll pass that along."
The Senator turned his attention to Maya. He didn't look at her face; he looked at her plate. She was pushing the salmon around with her fork, making patterns in the sauce.
"Eat, Maya," he said softly.
Maya looked up. Her expression was carefully blank. "I'm not very hungry, sir."
"It's forty-dollar salmon," the Senator noted, taking a sip of his wine. "It's wasteful to leave it."
Maya picked up her fork. Her hand was steady, but the line of her jaw was tight. She took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. It looked like she was swallowing glass.
"Better," he said. "Now. I wanted to discuss the summer arrangements. Sienna will be interning at the Capitol. It's unpaid, of course, but the experience is invaluable."
"Wait," Sienna interrupted, her fork clattering against her plate. "I thought I was going to Europe with Roman? We talked about this. You said if my grades were good—"
"Plans change," the Senator cut in smoothly. "The campaign needs young faces. You'll be organizing the youth outreach program. It looks better on a resume than partying in Ibiza."
"But—"
"Sienna." He said her name like a command. "We are not discussing this here."
Sienna slumped back in her chair. The fight went out of her instantly. She looked at Roman, silently pleading for backup, but Roman stayed quiet. He knew better than to argue with William Sterling in public.
"And Maya," the Senator continued, as if nothing had happened. "Your mother mentioned you were looking for summer work."
Maya froze. "I was going to apply at the library."
"Nonsense. The library pays pennies." He wiped his mouth with his napkin. "The estate needs help cataloging the archives. It's mostly paperwork. Dusty, boring, but it pays triple what the university offers. I told your mother you'd start in June."
"I... I'd prefer to stay on campus," Maya said. Her voice was thin.
"Nonsense," he repeated. "You'll stay in the Quarters. It saves on rent. Besides, your mother needs the help. She's getting... fragile."
He let the word hang there. Fragile.
Maya looked at him. Really looked at him. For a second, the mask slipped. There was no gratitude in her eyes, only a deep, terrified hate . She knew exactly what "help" meant. It meant she would be in his house. In his orbit. Under his thumb.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered.
"You're welcome." The Senator checked his Rolex. He stood up abruptly. "I have a meeting with the donor committee."
He dropped a black Amex on the table.
"Pay the bill."
He smoothed his tie, nodded to Roman, and walked out without looking back.
The silence he left behind was heavy.
Sienna reached for her wine glass immediately, draining half of it in one go. She let out a shaky laugh. "Well. Capitol Hill. That sounds... fun. Right?"
She looked at Roman, desperate for validation.
Roman didn't look at her. He was looking at Maya.
Maya hadn't moved. She was staring at the door where the Senator had exited, her face pale. She looked like someone who had just heard a cage door slam shut.
"Maya?" Sienna nudged her. "Hey. It's okay. The archives are easy. We can hang out every night. It'll be like old times."
Maya stood up slowly. "I have to go."
"What? But we haven't ordered dessert."
"I have a class," Maya lied. She grabbed her bag. "Thanks for lunch."
She walked away fast, weaving through the tables, desperate to get into the fresh air before she suffocated.
Sienna watched her go, confused. "What's her problem? He just gave her a job."
Roman watched Maya's retreating figure until she disappeared out the door. He picked up his glass, swirling the dark liquid.
"Yeah," Roman muttered. "He sure did."