It wasn't just that Ambrose Ward had the right words; it was that his actions were a perfect, rhythmic mirror to his rhetoric. Since the moment Ambrose had set foot in the Lakeport Development Zone, every move he made—every subpoena issued, every witness cornered, and every stone overturned—pulsed with an unrelenting, diamond-hard determination to root out the rot. He wasn't just fighting corruption; he was waging a holy war against the very concept of it.
This sharp, undeniable contrast began to weigh heavily on Victor Sinclair. As they stood in the lobby of the Joint Task Force Hotel, Victor felt a prickle of genuine shame. Only a few weeks ago, he had privately dismissed Ambrose as "immature"—a hot-headed Governor's Cadet who was more interested in making a splash than maintaining the
