"Cynthia, as your old classmate, I've heard about the Tremaines' current situation. You've been away from the capital for ten years—guess you don't really know how things work around here anymore, do you? My dad got promoted. He's now..." Johnny lowered his voice, "Deputy Minister of Urban Development. That plot your family owns by the South Loop—you want it rezoned for commercial use? My dad could make that happen with a single word."
Cynthia said nothing.
Johnny pressed on, blunt and unashamed. "If you're with me, the Tremaines could come back from the dead. All it'd take is one word from my father."
Cynthia could only stare at him, incredulous.
Johnny grew more smug by the second. "Cynthia, you know I've liked you since middle school. Just say yes, and I'll make sure you never want for anything."
She looked at his self-satisfied, almost gleeful face and gave a small, noncommittal smile—no point making an enemy out of him. "Alright, jot down a number. If you ever need anything, feel free to call."
Johnny instantly relaxed, his grin turning triumphant. The girl he'd once put on a pedestal—now she was practically at his beck and call. How could he not be pleased?
"I knew you were a sensible woman, Cynthia."
Still smiling, Cynthia recited a string of numbers.
Johnny hurried to enter the digits, and as he did, Cynthia slipped past him, moving toward the exit.
He wasn't quite convinced by her easy agreement. Suspicious, he dialed the number right away.
It only rang once before a gentle, unfamiliar female voice answered. "Hello, this is Giselle. Who's calling, please?"
Johnny stared at Cynthia's retreating figure, his face darkening. He hurried after her, grabbing her arm. "Cynthia, you think this is funny?"
Startled and caught off guard, Cynthia's eyes darted around—just as someone approached from the hallway. Without thinking, she grabbed the stranger's sleeve.
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