My Milf Conqueror System novel Chapter 43

Chapter 43: Caught between two dresses

Wednesday arrived with the weight of a guillotine blade.

The University Senate Hearing Room was designed to intimidate. High ceilings, mahogany tables arranged in a semicircle, and portraits of dead men staring down in judgment.

I sat at the witness table, a single microphone in front of me. To my right sat Dean Elena Vance, looking like a statue carved from ice and ambition.

Across from us sat the Provost, flanked by two junior administrators who looked like they hadn’t slept in a week.

"Mr. Hart," the Provost began, adjusting his glasses. "Let’s be frank. The Sterling Grant is a significant sum. Five million dollars. And Dean Vance proposes that a... student... oversee the allocation strategy?"

He smiled, a condescending twitch of the lips.

"No offense, son, but your resume is... thin. A few months ago, you were on academic probation. Now you’re advising on endowment strategy? It reeks of... impropriety."

He let the word hang there. Impropriety. He wasn’t just attacking my competence; he was attacking my relationship with Elena.

I felt Elena stiffen beside me. She opened her mouth to speak, to defend me.

I placed a hand on her arm. Wait.

I tapped the microphone.

[Skill Activated: Vocal Stability]

[Skill Activated: Orator (Level 2)]

[Effect: Commanding Voice]

"Provost," I said. My voice didn’t echo; it filled the room. It was calm, resonant, and impossible to ignore. "You’re right to be concerned about risk. Five million dollars is a lot of money."

I opened the folder in front of me. It wasn’t just my notes. It was the work of Hart Consulting.

Flashback: Tuesday Night, The Bunker.

"He’s going to hit you on experience," Claire had said, pacing the lab. "He’s going to say you’re a kid."

"So we don’t play his game," Nia said, typing furiously on three screens. "We play the numbers game. I dug into the Provost’s last three departmental budgets. Look at this."

She spun a monitor around.

"He spent $400,000 on ’consulting fees’ for the new library wing," Nia said. "To a firm owned by his brother-in-law. And the project is six months behind schedule."

"That’s leverage," Darius grunted.

"No," I said. "That’s a weapon. But if I use it directly, he’ll bury me. I need to use it... gently."

End Flashback.

"However," I continued, looking the Provost in the eye. "The risk isn’t in the who. It’s in the how. Traditional oversight often leads to... inefficiencies."

I slid a single sheet of paper across the table.

"I took the liberty of analyzing the efficiency ratings of the last five major grants managed by your office, sir. The average administrative overhead was 22%. The Sterling Grant, under the student-led model I proposed, caps overhead at 5%."

The Provost picked up the paper. His face paled.

"That’s... these are internal figures," he stammered. "How did you—"

"Public records, sir," I lied smoothly. "Cross-referenced with vendor filings. It’s amazing what you can find in the library."

I leaned forward.

"The Sterling Foundation didn’t give this money to the university administration. They gave it to the vision Dean Vance presented. A vision of agility. Of modern strategy. If we revert to the old model—the model that lost $400,000 in ’consulting delays’ last year—we risk losing the grant entirely."

The room went silent. The Provost looked at the paper, then at me. He knew I knew. And he knew that if he pushed me, I would say the words "brother-in-law" into the microphone.

[Social Engineering: Intimidation Check]

[Target: The Provost]

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