Chapter 15. The First Cut

Harper arrived early—not out of discipline, but because she understood how patterns disguised themselves as rituals. In the Ledger, punctuality wasn’t a virtue; it was a weapon. Appear too eager, and you looked desperate. Appear too late, and you looked sloppy. Arrive just early enough to own the silence, and the room would reorient itself around you.

By the time the other members filtered into the chamber, masked in coats of confidence and civility, she was already seated. Her posture was composed, her expression unreadable. She wore slate-gray today. Not power red, not mourning black—just the quiet, calculating color of someone who didn’t need to announce her arrival.

Knox spotted her first. He paused, if only by a fraction. She met his gaze, and for the first time since her vote had passed, she saw something new in his eyes—not control, not caution, but the faint shimmer of assessment. He wasn’t sure if she’d already surpassed him. That uncertainty thrilled her.