Chapter Text
Agatha Harkness was not a morning person. The sharp sound of a spoon clinking against a bowl was enough to pull her focus away from the glowing screen of her phone, a dozen emails glaring at her like unpaid debts, not that she would know much about it in her adult life. Across the kitchen island, her five-year-old son, Nicky, was deeply engrossed in stirring his cereal into a soupy mess, blue eyes peeking up at her mischievously every so often.
“Eat it, don’t drown it,” she muttered, taking another sip of her coffee. It was black, bitter, and scalding—exactly the way she liked it.
Nicky grinned, ignoring her advice. “It’s an experiment, Mama. Like science.”
Agatha sighed and set her phone down, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had exactly thirty minutes to finish preparing for a meeting that could determine her career trajectory, and instead, she was playing referee to her son’s breakfast antics.
“Science doesn’t work well with milk and marshmallows, Nicky.”
“Yes, it does,” he replied, defiantly shoving a spoonful of cereal soup into his mouth.
Her lips quirked upward for a fraction of a second. Nicky was a handful, but he was hers. His boundless energy and innocent curiosity were the rare things in her life that felt untainted by agendas, politics, or expectations.
But the moment was fleeting. A reminder buzzed on her phone:
9:30 AM – Meet Mayor Wilkins at Everpine Town Hall.
“Okay, time’s up,” Agatha said, standing and smoothing down the crisp lines of her blazer. “We’re leaving in five.”
Nicky groaned, but he slid off his stool, his feet covered in fluffy socks padding against the hardwood floor as he went to grab his shoes.
As she gathered her things, Agatha caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror. Her reflection was as composed and precise as ever: a tailored blue coat, hair twisted into a bun, and just a touch of makeup to mask the exhaustion etched beneath her eyes. Everything about her screamed “professional and powerful” but she knew that the small town of Everpine wouldn’t care.
Small towns never did.
She decided to take Nicky with her, so close to christmas she felt guilty leaving him with the nanny more than necessary, and small shit town america sounded safe enough for him.The car ride was mercifully quiet, save for the hum of the tires on the highway and Nicky’s occasional bursts of chatter.
“Do they have Christmas lights in this town?” he asked, pressing his nose against the window.
“Probably,” Agatha replied absently, flipping through her briefing notes. The factory project she was sent to secure was straightforward on paper: a new manufacturing facility that promised jobs and economic growth to a struggling rural town. It should have been an easy sell.
But she’d done enough research to know that Everpine wasn’t just any rural town. It had a reputation for being fiercely protective of its forest—hundreds of acres of dense greenery that locals claimed had “spiritual significance” or some other sentimental nonsense. Sentiment didn’t pay bills, they would eventually budge.
She glanced at Nicky, who was now humming a Christmas tune. His face lit up when he spotted the snow-dusted rooftops of Everpine coming into view.
“It looks like a Christmas card!” he exclaimed.
Agatha managed a small smile but said nothing. It did look picturesque, she had to admit. The town square was adorned with garlands and wreaths, and the smell of fresh pine hung faintly in the air, but she wasn’t here to marvel at the scenery.
Agatha’s first encounter with the resistance came not ten minutes after stepping out of the car.
The town square was buzzing with activity, but not the festive kind. A small crowd had gathered near the steps of the town hall, holding signs painted with bold, accusatory slogans:
“Save Our Forest!”
“No to Corporate Greed!”
“Protect Everpine!”
Agatha’s heels clicked against the cobblestone as she approached, Nicky’s small hand in hers. Her sharp gaze swept over the crowd, cataloging faces, reading signs, and mentally assessing her opposition.
That’s when she saw her.
Rio Vidal. Her intel had been pristine, she knew the reputation of the name and she could remember seeing a picture of the dark haired woman, staring with defiance in those brown eyes and a light smirk.
Standing at the center of the crowd, she was striking in her defiance. Dressed in weathered boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt, Rio radiated a confidence that was unapologetic and magnetic. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, loose strands framing a face set with determination.
Agatha’s first thought was that Rio didn’t look like a leader. No polished speeches, no expensive suits—nothing like the people Agatha was used to dealing with.
But then Rio began to speak.
“You’ve all seen the plans,” Rio called out, her voice clear and commanding. “They promise us jobs, but at what cost? They’ll tear down our trees, pollute our streams, and leave us with nothing but regret when they’ve sucked this town dry. This isn’t just about a forest. It’s about who we are and what we stand for!”
The crowd cheered, the sound rippling through the square like a wave. Agatha felt a flicker of irritation.
“Nicky,” she said softly, “stay close to me.”
As she maneuvered through the crowd, Rio’s gaze locked onto hers. The fire in her brown eyes didn’t falter, even as her lips curled into a slight smirk.
“Well, well,” Rio said, stepping forward. “You must be the corporate envoy we’ve been hearing about.”
Agatha’s grip on Nicky’s hand tightened slightly, but her expression remained calm and unreadable.
“Agatha Harkness,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m here to discuss the proposed project.”
Rio didn’t take the hand. Instead, she folded her arms, her smirk deepening. “Funny, I didn’t realize they sent people to deliver bad news in person.”
A few people in the crowd chuckled, but Agatha didn’t flinch.
“I prefer to address concerns directly,” she said evenly. “Though I imagine most of what you’re saying comes from misinformation.”
Rio raised an eyebrow. “Misinformation? Is that what you call caring about clean water and breathable air?”
“Caring is admirable,” Agatha replied smoothly, “but emotional arguments won’t solve economic problems.”
The tension between them was palpable, the crowd watching with bated breath as the two women faced off. Nicky, oblivious to the undercurrent of hostility, tugged on Agatha’s sleeve.
“Mamma, what’s an economic problem?”
Agatha sighed. “It’s when people don’t have enough money to—”
Rio interrupted, crouching down to Nicky’s level. “It’s when people like your mom think factories are more important than forests.”
Nicky tilted his head. “Why do you hate factories so much, mama?”
For the first time, Rio hesitated, her hard edges softening just slightly. “It’s not about hating factories, kiddo. It’s about loving the forest.” She gestured to the horizon, where the trees stood tall and proud against the winter sky. “Those trees have been here longer than any of us. They deserve to stay.”
Agatha opened her mouth to respond, but Nicky beat her to it. “They’re like really old superheroes!” he said excitedly.
Rio laughed, and for a brief moment, Agatha saw the charisma that had undoubtedly rallied so many people to her cause.
But she couldn’t let herself be charmed.
“That’s enough for now,” Agatha said firmly, pulling Nicky away. “Come on. We’re late.”
As she walked away, she could feel Rio’s eyes on her, the weight of judgment trailing her like a shadow.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Harkness,” Rio called after her, the smirk audible in her voice. “Good luck with your factory pitch.”
Agatha didn’t look back.
She didn’t need luck.