Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 331 - 162: The Dance

Evelyn suddenly changed the subject.

Her voice remained steady, devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

"I apologize."

Although it was an apology, her tone held not the slightest hint of remorse. It sounded more like she was stating an objective fact.

"Leaving you waiting in the hall for two hours, without even sparing you a glance, is indeed not in line with the Saint Claude Family’s code of hospitality."

Leo raised an eyebrow.

He hadn’t expected this arrogant woman to bring it up herself.

"No problem," Leo said lightly. "The sofas there were quite comfortable, and it gave me a chance to observe the ecosystem of Philadelphia’s high society. It was very interesting, especially the banker who kept trying to make you laugh. His comical performance was worth the price of admission."

"It was a test."

Evelyn ignored Leo’s sarcasm.

"A test?"

"Yes. A stress test."

Evelyn followed Leo’s lead, retreating as her high heels clicked crisply on the floor.

"There are too many rumors about you, Leo Wallace. Some say you’re a genius, some say you’re a madman. Some say you’re the next Roosevelt, while others say you’re just a lucky speculator."

"Two years ago, you were a student who couldn’t even afford rent. Now, you’re the Mayor of Pittsburgh, and you even pushed that nice old man Murphy into a Senator’s seat. A rise this fast defies the basic laws of political mechanics."

Evelyn’s gaze sharpened.

"I needed to verify the truth of these rumors, but I don’t have time for slow observation, nor do I have any interest in reading PR-polished reports. I needed the fastest, most direct method."

"Humiliation."

Leo finished her sentence.

"You wanted to see how I’d react to being humiliated. Whether I’d storm out in a rage like some nouveau riche, or tremble in a corner like a coward."

"Your methods are too crude, Miss Saint Claude."

During a spin, Leo leaned close to her ear and whispered.

"This isn’t the style of the head of a great family. It’s more like a high school clique bullying someone in the schoolyard."

Evelyn was unmoved by Leo’s mockery.

"Effectiveness is all that matters."

Evelyn lifted her head and looked directly into Leo’s eyes.

"You sat there, finished your champagne, and watched the entire boring auction. Not only did you endure the humiliation, you turned around and used that time of being ignored to observe your surroundings. You demonstrated extreme mental fortitude and a strong sense of purpose."

"You passed the test."

"This proves that at least half of the rumors are true. You do possess the mental constitution to survive in this gladiatorial arena. You are qualified to sit across the table from me and discuss the business to come."

The music was drawing to a close, and alarm bells were blaring wildly in his mind.

’This woman was dangerous.’

’Extremely dangerous.’

’In her eyes, there was no dignity, no emotion, not even good or evil.’

’Only efficiency, only cost-benefit ratios, only ends and means.’

"It seems I should feel honored," Leo jested, "to be considered a qualified asset in Miss Saint Claude’s eyes."

"You should feel fortunate."

Evelyn corrected him.

"Because this means you’ve obtained a ticket to the true core of power."

The music stopped.

The two of them froze in the center of the dance floor.

Polite yet enthusiastic applause erupted around them.

Evelyn released her hand from Leo’s shoulder, took half a step back, and resumed her aloof posture.