Daughter of Zeus ✔

13.7

Moretz absently slipped off his shoes and loosened his tie.

His body was on autopilot, while his mind was reeling.

"Dad?"

Darcy leaned against the doorframe of his office, brows drawn together.

"Rough day at work?"

Moretz laughed darkly. "Less than ideal." He swiped at the open files on his desk interface. He'd seen enough. "I'm afraid I can't help with your homework tonight, Darce."

She waved a hand at him, as though it didn't matter. "No problem. I'll ask Phennel. You get some rest." Darcy flashed him her winning smile before closing his office door behind her.

Happy to be alone, Moretz avoided the wall interface images staring back at him: ambassadors, grinning senators, and wealthy donors. In each picture, he was shaking hands with strange and powerful men, smiling at the photographer. He felt the stranger's eyes on him. More so, he felt the farce of the comradarie.

He released a deep breath as he considered the implications of the day.

His aide had shared with him the second draft of proposed legislation labeled "Clean Up." The phrase had intrigued him. Assuming it was another environmental clean air initiative, he'd read it. Yet, as he'd scrolled through the headers, words like "Specials," "complete," and "elimination" had jumped out at him.

Like the good candidate he was, he promised the sponsor he would back the proposal. Secretly, he panicked, wondering how many of his fellow congressional colleagues hid their lineage. He couldn't be the only one that hated himself.

Though the assumption had comforted him at first, it disgusted him the more he thought about it.

Finally, he gave in and swept his gaze over the congratulatory images surrounding him. He ignored most, settling on the one nearest his desk. A family trip from the year before, with his wife and children smiling largely against the setting sun.

The image helped Moretz reach a decision. He spoke with a Contact on his interface. They assured him that the trade he proposed was sound. Moretz ended the call with a sigh of relief.

Before going to bed, he began his nightly ritual, which consisted of sitting at his desk and staring at the wall.

Eventually, the non-movement yielded the necessary results. The smiling images on the walls morphed into a blur of colors. The blurs took him outside of himself, allowing for reflection. Moretz fell into a trance-like state.

Here, in the blank spaces of his consciousness, he was building two things:

-a mental wall against Ada's violence
-a mental wall to block Kressick from knowing his secrets.

~*~

A/N: If you like this story so far, I heard from a friend that voting is the new Tik Tok. Once you click that star, you'll become a 🌟