Chapter 172 Tennis Klutz

Chapter 172 Tennis Klutz
[Barrett]

The economic reports spread across my desk told a story few people wanted to acknowledge. Pharmaceutical prices had risen by an average of 15.7% in the last year alone—nearly four times the rate of inflation. For life-saving medications, the increases were even more dramatic.

I rubbed my temples, glancing at the clock. It was already past midnight, but the stack of data analysis from my research team demanded attention. The pharmaceutical price control bill was moving forward, but not without significant headwinds.

The sound of soft footsteps broke my concentration.

"Barrett?" Sera's voice was gentle in the dimness of my home office. "You're still working?"

I looked up to see her standing in the doorway, wearing a simple cotton nightgown, her hair loosely falling around her shoulders. Despite the exhaustion weighing on me, the sight of her brought a momentary calm.

"Just reviewing some data for tomorrow's committee meeting," I said, trying to sound less frustrated than I felt.

She approached without hesitation, moving behind my chair. "Your shoulders are like rocks," she observed, her fingers beginning to knead the tense muscles. "Something's bothering you beyond just work, isn't it?"

I considered deflecting, protecting her from my concerns, but her touch was dissolving my resolve. "The pharmaceutical bill is facing more opposition than I anticipated," I admitted. "GlobalPharm's CEO Richard Harrington has launched a public relations campaign against it."

"Richard Harrington," Sera repeated thoughtfully. "That name sounds familiar."

"He's a close friend of Dominic's. Golf partners for years." I closed the report I was reading. "They've been friends since college. Now suddenly every major news outlet is questioning the bill's impact on 'innovation' and 'American leadership in medicine.'"

Sera continued massaging my shoulders, her touch gentle yet firm. "You think Dominic is involved?"

"I don't have proof, but the timing is suspicious." I sighed, finally turning to face her. "And then there's that letter in your backpack."

Her hands paused. "You're still thinking about that? Barrett, I told you—"

"I know you didn't invite it," I interrupted, taking her hand. "That's not my concern. But someone got close enough to slip it into your bag without you noticing. That worries me."

Sera's expression softened. "You think it's connected to your political opponents?"

I nodded. "It's possible. You've been in the news since Valtoria. The timing of this—with the pharmaceutical bill gaining momentum—it feels calculated."

"To distract you? Or intimidate me?" Sera asked, perceptive as always.

"Both, perhaps." I pulled her onto my lap, needing her closer. "I've increased security around campus, and Jay is coordinating with additional personnel. You won't notice them, but they'll be there."

Instead of protesting as I half-expected, Sera simply rested her head against my shoulder. "I understand," she said softly. "But don't let this derail your work. This bill will help so many people who can't afford their medications."

Her support, so freely given, still surprised me sometimes. "I won't," I promised. "Four key provisions: price increase caps, international imports, tax break eliminations, and transparency requirements. We're pushing forward on all fronts."

"Good," she murmured, her fingers tracing patterns on my arm. "Now come to bed. You'll think more clearly after some sleep."

[Sera]

I adjusted my grip on the tennis racket, focusing on my form as I gently returned Jolin's serve across the net. The campus tennis courts were relatively empty this morning, which was exactly why we'd chosen this time slot. My doctor had encouraged "moderate exercise" throughout my pregnancy, and Barrett had reluctantly agreed that tennis with Jolin was acceptable—provided we kept it light.

"Sera, you're holding the racket like it's going to bite you," Jolin called out, shaking her head with amusement as my return sailed wide of the court. "I can't believe you chose tennis for your PE requirement."

I groaned, retrieving the ball from the bushes. "Don't remind me. I thought it would be easier than swimming or running track." I waddled back to position. "How was I supposed to know I have zero athletic coordination?"

"Zero is generous," Jolin teased, but her smile was warm. "You realize your midterm practical is next week, right? Professor Chen is going to expect you to actually hit the ball inside the lines."

"That's why I'm out here practicing at sunrise," I said, attempting another serve that barely cleared the net. "Barrett thinks I'm being too hard on myself, but I refuse to fail PE of all classes."

We rallied for a few more exchanges—though 'rally' was generous considering half my shots went into the net—before taking a water break at the bench.

"Honestly, Sera," Jolin continued, wiping sweat from her forehead, "I've seen toddlers with better hand-eye coordination. Maybe you should consider—"

"Hey, that's not fair!" I started to protest, but my phone suddenly rang from inside my tennis bag, cutting off my defense. I reached for it, grateful for the interruption.

I pulled it out, expecting a check-in text from Barrett, but instead saw an email notification from the university president's office. As I read it, I felt a knot forming in my stomach.

"The university president wants me to speak at the Leadership Forum next week," I said, lowering my phone. "She thinks my 'inspirational actions in Valtoria' would provide valuable perspective for the student body."

"That's amazing!" Jolin exclaimed, her face lighting up.

"No, it's not," I replied, stuffing my racket back into my bag. "I didn't go to Valtoria to become some kind of campus celebrity. I went to help with the relief efforts, not for... this." I gestured at the newspaper.

"Would it be so terrible to share your experience?" she asked, gathering her own things. "You might inspire other students."

"I've never been comfortable with this kind of attention," I explained as we walked toward the locker rooms. "Being thrust into the spotlight makes me anxious. I need to go home and figure out how to politely decline."