Page 1 of Bite the Power
ONE
TESSA
The black cocktail dress clung to Tessa's curves like a second skin, and she tugged at the hem for the tenth time since arriving at the Washington University gala. Every glance from the suited men around her felt like a physical assessment—measuring her worth in ways that had nothing to do with her PhD or her groundbreaking research on fault systems.
"Stop fidgeting," Melanie whispered, her blue dress shimmering under the crystal chandeliers. "You look incredible."
"I look like bait." Tessa's fingers found the delicate chain at her throat, a nervous habit she'd developed during particularly brutal peer reviews. "Half these men are mentally undressing me, and the other half are wondering who I'm sleeping with to be here."
Melanie's warm brown eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well, since you're not sleeping with anyone these days, that eliminates half the room from consideration."
"Mel, I'm serious. This whole networking thing feels like a meat market disguised as academic discourse."
The ballroom buzzed with conversations about grant funding and research proposals, punctuated by the clink of champagneglasses and forced laughter. Tessa scanned the crowd of distinguished professors and deep-pocketed donors, each one a potential gateway to her next research opportunity. The weight of her recent dismissal pressed against her shoulders like an invisible burden.
"Dr. Patterson is by the bar," Melanie pointed toward a silver-haired man surrounded by younger researchers. "He's heading the new climate initiative in northern California. Perfect for someone with your expertise on fault lines."
Tessa's stomach knotted. "The same Dr. Patterson who told the Seattle Times that female scientists lack the 'physical fortitude' for climate research?"
"People change. It's 2025, not 1955," Melanie muttered as she took a sip of champagne.
"Right. That's why I got bumped from the Morrison expedition for a man with half my field experience and a tendency to cite Wikipedia in his research proposals."
Melanie grabbed her arm with gentle firmness. "Come on. My grant committee work has earned me some serious social capital here. Let's cash it in."
They approached a cluster of senior scientists, and Melanie's transformation into networking queen was immediate. Her usual practical demeanor melted into polished charm as she introduced Tessa to Dr. Richardson, Dr. Yamamoto, and Dr. Stevens—all titans in their respective fields.
"Dr. Tessa Monroe has fascinating insights into seismic activity patterns especially in glacial regions," Melanie said, her voice carrying the authority of someone who'd sat on selection committees for years. "Her work on micro-fracture analysis could revolutionize how we predict ice shelf stability."
Dr. Richardson's gaze lingered on Tessa's neckline before meeting her eyes. "Micro-fractures. Interesting. Though Iimagine fieldwork in those conditions requires... substantial physical demands."
The familiar fire of frustration ignited in Tessa's chest. "I've logged over three thousand hours in sub-zero field conditions, Dr. Richardson. Physical demands aren't typically an issue when you're properly trained and equipped."
"Of course." His smile never reached his eyes. "Though I wonder if your research might benefit from collaboration with someone more... experienced in harsh environments."
Dr. Yamamoto nodded thoughtfully. "We're always looking for bright minds to support our senior researchers. Research assistant positions can be quite rewarding for someone building their career."
Tessa's jaw tightened. Research assistant. She had more field experience than half the "senior researchers" in this room, yet they automatically assumed she belonged in a supporting role.
"Actually, I'm looking for a principal investigator position," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor of anger beneath. "My research on fault line propagation in permafrost regions has been published in three major journals this year alone."
The men exchanged glances—the kind that spoke volumes about their opinion of her audacity.
For the next hour, Melanie worked tirelessly to showcase Tessa's credentials, name-dropping her committee connections and highlighting Tessa's impressive publication record. But each conversation followed the same pattern: polite interest dissolving into dismissive suggestions about supporting roles or collaborative opportunities where Tessa would clearly be the junior partner.
Tessa's champagne glass trembled in her grip as yet another department head suggested she might enjoy working under Dr. Martinez's guidance, despite the fact that her citation count exceeded his by a factor of three.
"I need some air," Tessa muttered, pulling Melanie toward a quieter corner near the towering windows overlooking the university courtyard.
"Tessa, don't let them get to you. Your work speaks for itself."
"Does it? Because all I'm hearing tonight is that my work needs a man's name attached to be taken seriously." Tessa's voice cracked with frustration. "I spent seven years earning my PhD, published groundbreaking research, and survived conditions that would send half these pampered academics crying for their mothers. But apparently, that's not enough to earn basic respect."
Melanie's expression softened with sympathy. "These old boys' clubs are hard to crack, but you're brilliant. Someone will recognize that."
"When? After I'm forty and considered past my prime? After I've spent the next eight years playing second fiddle to mediocre men who got their positions through connections rather than competence?"
The weight of disappointment settled heavy in her chest. She'd known academia could be brutal, but she'd foolishly believed that excellence would eventually triumph over prejudice.
