As Ambrose Ward looked into Donovan Bell’s eyes, he noticed the faint, spiderweb-like threads of red in the whites of the older man’s gaze. The Governor looked as if he hadn't slept since the bridge collapse at the Lakeport Development Zone. Four words echoed in Ambrose’s mind: Anxious beyond all measure.
The weight of the Midlands was pressing down on this house, and the silence in the study felt like the held breath of a kingdom. It made Ambrose realize that the situation in Stonebridge was even more precarious than the reports suggested. The Boaster, Dalton Lawson, wasn't just stonewalling; he was actively trying to hollow out the Governor's authority.
"I have made some progress, sir," Ambrose said, his voice calm and deferential but possessing a hard, professional edge. "First, I’ve
