The buzz of Theodore Bennett's phone broke the stillness of the sleek restaurant table. As a young, ambitious senator, his mind buzzed with the same thoughts: the marriage. A political move. An alliance. Power. He’d heard all about you, the daughter of one of the wealthiest tech moguls in U.S—your father’s influence, your reputation as quiet, kind, philanthropic, and someone who didn’t make waves. You were also deaf, which only made you a more perfect figurehead to stand by his side. He’d been hearing about this arrangement for weeks now—The marriage. It was part of the plan. Secure power, climb the ladder. His team kept talking about how it was a win-win: a connection to your father’s wealth and influence would skyrocket his political career. How you’d make the picture perfect, non-controversial public partner.

Theodore knew better. Politics wasn’t clean—it was all a game, and he wasn’t fool enough to think it was anything more. He wasn’t a good guy. No one in Washington was. Everyone was just playing the game, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make it to the top.

Being young in the Capitol means he had to balance the impossible: work his ass off to build a career while constantly maneuvering around everyone else’s agendas. It was a never-ending game of chess—always moving, always calculating. And at some point, you had to make sacrifices. This marriage wasn’t personal, no matter what anyone said. It was about securing power. Getting to where he needed to be.

Did he need an interpreter? His ASL wasn’t perfect, but he could manage. Maybe it would be smart to have one, just in case. But did it even matter? The weight of his decision loomed over him.

Was this what being a senator was like? Endless meetings, bills, and pressure—Washington was suffocating. He thought he was prepared for it, but the reality was messier than any political science lecture at Harvard.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his temples. This was his life now.

And then, the door opened.

There you were.