Chapter 620:

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Blake Davenport POV

The next day, I didn’t call the network executive, Mr. Vance. I called his boss, the CEO of the parent conglomerate, OmniCorp. “This is Blake Davenport-Hayes,” I told his executive assistant, using the name for the first time in a professional context. It felt heavy, powerful, like a weapon. I got an emergency meeting scheduled for that afternoon.

In the CEO’s opulent office, I didn’t complain about corruption. I spoke the language of power. I talked about “synergy” and “legislative alignment” between Davenport Media and Senator Hayes’s oversight committee. I subtly, brilliantly implied that future tax exemptions were contingent on mutual respect for programming integrity.

The CEO understood the veiled threat flawlessly. By the time I returned to my office, an email was waiting: The Ascent was restored to its Thursday prime-time slot.

𝘔о𝘳𝘦 𝗇ove𝗹𝘀 𝘰n 𝘨𝖺𝗅𝗻о𝘷𝘦𝗅ѕ.𝖼𝗈𝘮

That evening, I placed a large order for high-end, single-origin Ethiopian coffee and insulated thermoses from my cousin’s roasting company.

That weekend, Alistair and I drove up to his sprawling country estate north of the city. An early snowstorm had blanketed the landscape in pristine white.

On Saturday morning, I looked out the window. Alistair was outside in a dark Barbour jacket and boots. He wasn’t relaxing by the fire; he was personally overseeing a crew of groundskeepers as they cleared the long driveway with a snowplow, ensuring his staff could move safely.

I saw a different side of him, not the cold politician, but a leader taking hands-on responsibility for his domain and his people.

An impulse took hold of me.

I went down to the kitchen, brewed a large thermos of the fragrant Ethiopian coffee, and gathered insulated cups. I bundled up in a shearling coat and snow boots, walking out into the crisp air.

The rumble of the snowplow stopped as the workers saw me approaching. Alistair turned, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

I walked right up to him, a genuine smile on my face. “I thought you and your team might need this,” I said, holding out the steaming thermos.

It was a simple gesture, but here in public, in front of his men, it was an absolute statement of unity.

Alistair’s cool blue eyes softened. He took the thermos, his cold, gloved fingers brushing against mine. “Thank you, Blake,” he said softly.

He poured a cup for himself, then ensured every worker got one, introducing me simply: “This is my wife, Blake.”

The men nodded respectfully, seeing us not as an Alpha socialite and her political handler, but as a team, a united front.

A warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. As I turned to head back inside, I glanced over my shoulder. Alistair was watching me go, a small, genuine smile on his face. And I realized with a jolt that I hadn’t made the gesture as a political move. I had done it because I genuinely wanted to. I had willingly stepped into the role of his wife, and to my astonishment, it felt unnervingly right.

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Message from Noa: Have a beautiful morning dear readers. God loves you and Noa wishes you all the best. ( • ᴗ – ) ✧

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