Page 9 of The Toy Collector

That’s the thing with power, it’s not about who holds the title; it’s about who pulls the strings. People think elections are about democracy—about the will of the people. That’s adorable.

The will of the people is nothing more than a carefully orchestrated illusion, one I design with precision. I remove the weak and uplift the strong, and I do it without ever stepping into the spotlight.

Politics is a chessboard, and I am the hand that moves the pieces. The right candidate, the right scandal at the right time, the right whispers in the ears of the right people—these things matter more than votes. Public perception is a weapon, and I wield it with absolute control.

I don’t work with just anyone. Only those who deserve to win. The ones with the will to command, to shape the world as it should be. The rest? They’re dead weight, taking up space where real power should exist. And I remove dead weight with ruthless efficiency.

“Do you have someone else in mind?” Remus sighs. From his tone, I know he expected this. Though the Russo Don isn’t happy about it, he respects my input enough not to argue the matter. “You know that we need a new senator this year, Lorenzo.”

Nodding, I pull the two people who impressed me up on my tablet, and email their info to Remus. “I’ve sent you the info on the two I’d pick,” I reply. “Both have the right image to win people over without too much effort.”

My cousin doesn’t waste any time in giving me his opinion, which we both know isn’t the final word. When it comes to our family, his word is law. But when it comes to making or breaking politicians, he trusts me implicitly.

Some say I play God. Maybe I do. Maybe that’s the point. The truth is, some people aren’t built for power. They’re weak, corruptible in ways that don’t serve the bigger picture. It takes a practiced eye to spot which scandals are liabilities rather than assets.

In short, if a candidate’s failure can’t be used strategically, I cut them out. Disgrace, scandal, financial ruin—sometimes, they get the chance to disappear quietly. Other times, they become cautionary tales. A plane crash. A suicide. An accident no one questions.

The world needs leaders who can bend it to their will. And I decide who those leaders are. I don’t care about political parties. I don’t care about party lines. I care about making sure the machine runs as it should. And when a cog starts malfunctioning? I remove it.

No one remembers the names of those who almost won. But everyone remembers the ones I put in power. Because once I choose someone to lead, there is no alternative. No opponent is strong enough. No scandal big enough. No downfall is inevitable enough. If I decide someone will rise, they will. If I decide they’ll fall, there’s no way back up.

That’s what I do. I don’t just shape the future; I own it.

“You seem distracted,” Remus observes. “Is this a bad time?”

Yes, it’s the worst fucking time. Instead of saying that, I look at the incomplete puzzle and say, “I’m just tying up some strings.”

“Word is you’re getting distracted by a woman,” Remus mutters. “Someone new to play with?”

I chuckle, slow and quiet even as heat stirs in my chest. “Piper Harrington is so much more than a plaything. She’s mine.”

“Harrington,” Remus says, tasting the word. “She’s the woman you had Matteo gather intel on?”

“The one and only,” I reply.

I can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Is that why you’re so distracted?”

“Partly,” I admit. There’s no point in lying.

He inhales sharply. “Look, I don’t care what you do in your spare time. But I can’t afford for you to get too… obsessed. I need you sharp, Lorenzo.”

“Obsessed?” I scoff, leaning back. “Control isn’t obsession. Control is ownership.”

A part of me isn’t so sure what I’m saying is true. For the past three days, nine hours, and thirty-seven minutes I’ve pulled every string, used every connection to learn everything there is to learn about Piper.

I even know how old she was when she lost her first tooth, when she got her period, what ice cream her nanny bought when she broke her arm by falling off her pony. There’s nothing I don’t know about her.

Is that control? Or obsession? Maybe the two aren’t mutually exclusive.

“Just make sure she doesn’t become a liability.” Remus’ tone makes it clear it’s an order, and… it sounds almost like a threat. A thinly veiledor else.

A flare of defiance sparks in my chest, sharp and fleeting. But I swallow it down. He’s family. He’s the Don. I bend—but only because I choose to. So I tamper down the need to growl at him, to tell him to mind his own fucking business.

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth hurt. “Liabilities don’t exist in my world.” I cup my chin and tilt my head back. “But if you’re worried, cousin, tell Rafe and Matteo to do their job when the time comes for Piper’s interview.”

I hang up, then let the quiet settle.

Before I can put my phone down, it vibrates in my hand. It’s Cyrus. We’ve known each other since birth—our fathers in the same syndicate, our childhoods sewn together in smoke-filled rooms and iron discipline. Now, he’s my right hand. My shadow. The only man outside my family that I trust implicitly.

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