"I’m Ro D’Angelo. Your son. The one you gave up on."
"No. Ro was weak. Unfocused. Incapable of basic discipline. Whatever happened to change that—"
"Nothing happened. I just stopped pretending to be what you wanted and started becoming what I needed to be."
"That’s not an answer."
"It’s the only one you’re getting."
Another long silence. Then, slowly, Vito smiled. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was the smile of a predator recognizing another predator.
"Interesting," he said. "Very interesting."
"Is that supposed to be a complint?"
"It’s an observation. You’ve grown teeth, Ro. I wasn’t sure you had it in you."
"Lots of things you weren’t sure about. Doesn’t make them less true."
He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the city below. "Vanguard will try to lock you into a long-term contract. Standard practice for promising recruits. They’ll offer signing bonuses and performance incentives and make it sound like the opportunity of a lifeti."
"I know."
"Do you also know that their standard contracts include exclusivity clauses that would prevent you from any business dealings with Angelo Corp for the duration of your employnt?"
"I figured sothing like that was coming."
"And you’re still planning to et with them?"
"I’m planning to hear what they have to say. That’s not the sa as accepting."
Vito turned back to face . "What do you want, Ro? Really want. Not the posturing you’ve been doing since you walked in. What’s your actual goal?"
I thought about it. About the system’s requirents and the quest looming over my head. About the won I’d dragged into this ss. About the life I was building from the ashes of soone else’s failure.
"Freedom," I said. "The ability to make my own choices without soone else pulling the strings."
"Nobody gets that. Not really."
"Maybe not. But I can get close."
"And you think defying is the path to that?"
"I think establishing that I’m not your puppet is the first step. Everything else cos after."
He considered this for a long mont. Then he walked back to his desk and pulled sothing from a drawer. A folder, thick with docunts.
"There’s a clause in the family trust," he said. "One your grandfather added before he died. It states that any D’Angelo heir who achieves Three-Star hero certification before the age of twenty-five receives automatic control of their inheritance plus a seat on the corporate board."
I hadn’t known that. Neither had the original Ro, based on the mories I’d inherited.
"Why are you telling this?"
"Because you’re the first D’Angelo in three generations who might actually qualify." He set the folder on the desk. "The current standings have you ranked seventh in your class for combat performance. Top five would put you on track for Three-Star provisional certification by graduation. If you maintain that trajectory—"
"Then I get what I want without having to fight you for it."
"Essentially."
"What’s the catch?"
"No catch. Just an observation." He t my eyes. "Your grandfather was the last person in this family who truly understood power. How to build it. How to keep it. How to wield it without becoming its slave. I see sothing similar in you."
"Is that supposed to be a complint?"
"It’s a warning. Power attracts enemies. The kind you’re building right now, with your matches and your abilities and your very public displays of competence, will bring attention you might not be ready for."
"I can handle attention."
"Can you? The NEA has protocols for people like you, Ro. People with abilities that don’t fit their categories. People who represent potential threats to the established order. If they decide you’re dangerous—"
"Then I’ll deal with it."
"You’ll deal with it." He laughed, short and sharp. "You sound like your mother."
"I’ll take that as a complint."
"It was ant as one." He pushed the folder toward . "Take this. Read it. Understand what you’re fighting for before you start swinging."
I picked up the folder. It was heavier than it looked.
"This doesn’t an we’re on the sa side," I said.
"I never assud we were. But you’re still my son, Ro. Whatever else has changed about you, that hasn’t."
"Is that supposed to make feel sothing?"
"Feel whatever you want. Just don’t let it make you stupid."
I tucked the folder under my arm. "We’re done here."
"For now."
Cheon and ra stood when I turned toward the door. We walked out together, leaving Vito Angelo alone in his glass tower.
The elevator doors closed behind us.
"That went better than expected," Cheon said.
"Did it?"
"He gave you information instead of trying to destroy you. From what I understand about your father, that’s practically a declaration of love."
"Panda’s right," ra added. "He could have made this eting a lot harder. Instead he basically handed you a roadmap to independence."
"Which ans he wants sothing."
"Obviously. But whatever he wants, it aligns with what you want for now. That’s useful."
I looked at the folder in my hands. Docunts about trusts and inheritance and corporate power structures. Things the original Ro had never bothered to learn because he’d assud he’d never have access to them anyway.
"Three-Star certification," I said.
"By graduation," Cheon confird. "Which ans top five in class rankings, excellent field performance during the exhibition matches, and a clean psychological evaluation."
"The psych eval might be a problem."
"We’ll cross that bridge when we co to it."
The elevator reached the ground floor. We walked out into the sunlight, three people who had no business being together and sohow fit anyway.
"Vanguard eting’s at two," ra said. "That gives us three hours."
"Three hours for what?"
"Lunch. Strategy. Maybe a quickie in the back of the car if we’re feeling adventurous."
"Marco’s driving."
"Marco’s seen worse."
"I really haven’t," Marco called from the driver’s seat. "And I’d prefer to keep it that way."
ra pouted. "Spoilsport."
We climbed into the rcedes. The city sprawled around us, bright and busy and full of people who had no idea what was coming.
My phone buzzed.
AURORA: Can we et again? Tonight?
I stared at the ssage. Felt sothing complicated twist in my chest.
"Aurora?" Cheon asked, reading over my shoulder.
"Yeah."
"What are you going to tell her?"
I typed out a response, then deleted it. Typed another one, deleted that too.
Finally I just wrote: Where and when?
Her reply ca imdiately. Observation deck. 8pm.
I’ll be there.
Cheon was watching with sothing unreadable in her expression. "You care about her."
"I care about all of you."
"That’s not what I ant."
"I know what you ant."
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