text: (WP) Pride Versus Greed Part One: The First Sin Everyone knew who Tessa St. Claire was. She was one of the best politicians that had ever lived, and she knew it. But her ambition alone hadn’t been the blessing she needed to achieve her dreams, as much as she liked to believe so. It had been the ring. It had transformed her from mousy, meek Tess, keener to hide out in the library than socialize with her peers, to Tessa, the woman who stood with the world at her feet and her arms opened wide, eager to take everything it offered her. When she’d found it, abandoned on a bookshelf, it had twinkled like a secret, hidden star, just for her. Without thinking much of it, she’d slipped it on her left ring finger, which had been naked since her fiancé had left her. Suddenly, everything changed. She was being invited to parties, getting asked out by men and women alike, her curls smoothed straight, her acne vanished, and all of her clothes were shiny, new, and designer. She quickly rose up the ranks, and with her social success, her grades rose as well. She was the top of her class by the end of her senior year. Graduating from Yale that summer, she quickly landed a job at a top-tier law firm. But with her newfound beauty and silver tongue, that wasn’t enough anymore. She was soon an assistant to a politician, and then she became one herself. She was a rising star, and she told herself that the ring had nothing to do with it. Maybe it had given her a little nudge in the right direction, but it wasn’t solely responsible for everything she’d reaped and wrought. She was the author of her own destiny and always had been. \*\* Tessa St. Claire boarded her own private jet, ringed by her entourage and bodyguards. She was due to be in Chicago in the morning for her campaign run. She was shooting for the Senator’s seat, and she knew, deep down, that she could do it. Anyone could be fleeced; it was all a matter of saying something in just the right way. She ordered her assistant to go get her tablet; she wanted to constantly be updated on her opponents. She curtly thanked her and sent her to fetch some other things. Powering on the device, she tuned in to CNN, and found herself looking at her opponent, a fetching older man with salt and pepper hair and a fine goatee. Preston Culpepper, her former assistant. Traitor. His suit was Hugo Boss, a black and white pinstripe that hugged his bulky frame. He looked as though he was giving a speech. She turned up the volume on the tablet, and the man’s rich baritone came through the speakers, honeyed and genteel. “I am known as a man who keeps his promises,” He was saying, smiling out at the crowd, working them as only a politician could. “I will be happily anticipating your votes, folks, when I run for Senator of Massachusetts!” The last of this sentence was drowned out by roars of approval, and Tessa pinched the screen, zooming in on Culpepper’s right hand. On his ring finger glinted a bright, golden ring, and her own finger began tingling in response, as if it could sense its brother, even so many miles away. It appeared she had competition in the one place she’d never expected.