Rising To Power

CHAPTER 7

The sky was overcast as Maybelline stepped out of the limousine and into the chill air. The city’s skyline loomed in the distance, but she wasn’t here for the views. Her focus was singular—her meeting with Malik. After the announcement at the gala, she had retreated into herself, feeling both trapped and betrayed by the people who claimed to love her. Her father’s words still rang in her ears: “You’re an asset. One I’ve protected and raised for this very reason.” The more she thought about it, the more those words felt like chains, keeping her in a life she had never wanted. But if she wanted to break free, she had to start somewhere. And Malik… Malik was the key.

Timothée’s driver opened the door to the sleek, black car and stepped back. Maybelline hesitated for a moment before stepping out, adjusting the hem of her navy dress. She hadn’t heard from Timothée since that night at the gala, and part of her was relieved. Despite the cold, despite the looming uncertainty, there was something liberating about being outside the walls of the penthouse, where she could breathe without the weight of his eyes on her. The penthouse had become a gilded cage, and Malik, a person she could rely on, was the only one who might offer a way out.

The address she had been given was in the heart of the city’s tech district, a place that felt like a world apart from the glittering, power-filled life she had been thrust into. The building she was about to enter was sleek and modern, with walls of glass that reflected the gray clouds above. Inside, the elevator whisked her up to the top floor. When the doors opened, she was greeted by a minimalist, high-tech apartment that seemed more like a command center than a living space. The air smelled faintly of wood and fresh coffee.

Standing by a massive desk, Malik was typing away at a laptop, completely engrossed in his work. His office was just as stark and efficient as the rest of the space, with no decoration except for a few pieces of abstract art on the walls. His back was to her when the door opened, but he turned as she stepped inside.

His appearance hadn’t changed since the last time they spoke—short-cropped hair, eyes sharp and focused, as if he could analyze the world and make sense of it in a heartbeat. But today, there was something else behind his gaze, a wariness that made her stomach churn. She had called him, and he had agreed to meet her, but it felt like a step into the unknown.

“Maybelline,” Malik said, his voice low but not unwelcoming. He rose from his chair, his movements fluid and effortless. “I wasn’t expecting you today. Is something wrong?”

She stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the simplicity of his apartment before replying. "I need your help," she said, her voice steady but edged with a frustration she couldn’t hide. She hadn’t intended to sound so blunt, but it was the truth. She needed him more than ever.

Malik crossed the room, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think I’m the one you want help from. I’m not exactly a knight in shining armor, Maybelline.”

She smiled bitterly. “I’m not looking for a hero. I’m looking for someone who can help me find the truth. And you’re the only one who knows enough to do that.”

Malik raised an eyebrow. “The truth? About what?”

Maybelline stepped further into the room, feeling the tension in the air shift. “About my father. About what’s really going on. I don’t trust anyone in my life anymore, Malik. Not even Timothée. My father—he’s made decisions for me that I never agreed to. He’s tied me to people I don’t even know, like I’m some kind of bargaining chip.”

Malik’s gaze softened, though it was brief. He walked over to the glass wall, looking out at the city below, his back to her as if to give her space. “You already know the truth,” he said, his voice quiet. “But sometimes, the truth isn’t enough to set you free. Sometimes, it takes more than just knowing what’s wrong. It takes doing something about it.”

Maybelline felt a wave of emotion wash over her—anger, betrayal, and most of all, fear. Fear of being trapped in a life she hadn’t chosen, fear of never escaping the chains that had been placed around her since birth. She could feel the walls of the penthouse closing in on her again, and this time, they were suffocating.

“What are you suggesting?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. She hadn’t realized how much of her composure had slipped until she saw Malik turn to face her, his expression serious.

“There’s more to your father’s campaign than you know,” Malik said, leaning against the desk. “Prescott’s connections run deep—too deep for you to even imagine. He’s made deals with people who have no interest in your well-being, Maybelline. You’re just a tool to them, another piece in a much larger game.”

She frowned, her mind racing. "I knew he was using me, but I didn’t think it was like this."

"Using you isn’t the half of it," Malik replied, walking closer. His voice lowered, his words more deliberate. “He’s selling you to the highest bidder, Maybelline. Your marriage to Timothée Laurent is only a small part of the deal. Prescott is getting thirty million dollars for his campaign, but that’s not all. He’s giving Laurent access to everything—the political connections, the influence, and, most importantly, the Prescott name. Your marriage is a business transaction.”

Her heart sank. She had suspected as much, but hearing it from Malik, with such finality, made her stomach churn. The idea of being sold like a commodity, of being nothing more than a pawn in her father’s endless political games, made her feel sick. But Malik wasn’t done.

“You need to understand something, Maybelline,” he continued, his voice sharp. “You’re not just part of a political transaction. You’re the key to a much bigger play. Prescott is positioning you to be the next First Lady. You’re meant to be his legacy, a symbol of his success. But there are people who won’t let him get that far.”

Maybelline’s head spun. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Prescott has enemies, and some of them have been waiting for a moment like this,” Malik replied. “If you’re not careful, you might find yourself in a lot more danger than you realize. But if you’re serious about escaping this—about finding the truth—you need to start thinking bigger. And that’s where I come in.”

Maybelline stared at him, trying to digest his words. “You can help me?”

“I can,” Malik said, his expression steady. “But it won’t be easy. If you want to take down Prescott, if you want to take back control of your life, it’s going to take more than just knowing the truth. It’s going to take action. And that means getting your hands dirty.”

Maybelline hesitated. The weight of what he was suggesting was immense, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. But deep down, she knew he was right. If she wanted out, if she wanted freedom, she had to fight for it. And she couldn’t do it alone.

She nodded slowly. “I’m ready.”

Malik studied her for a moment, as if evaluating whether or not she truly understood the gravity of what she was agreeing to. Then, finally, he nodded.

“Alright,” he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We start with the past. Prescott’s past. And once we understand how deep the corruption runs, we can begin to plan our next move.”

Maybelline felt a rush of adrenaline. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was finally in control. The road ahead would be dangerous, but she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.