Sara Zander #1

The Sally Richards Problem

Governor Sara Zander sat in her private study, her perfectly manicured nails drumming against the mahogany desk.

The room was designed to exude power: the walls lined with leather-bound books that Zander had never read, the mounted deer head above the fireplace a trophy she had never hunted, and a portrait of George Washington hanging over her shoulder like a silent guardian of her ambitions.

But tonight, she wasn’t feeling powerful. She was seething.

The Sally Richards situation was spiraling out of control, and Zander hated when things spiraled. She liked control—lived for it. It was the fuel that powered her rise from the daughter of a struggling Arkansas farmer to the most powerful woman in the state. She had learned early that control wasn’t given; it was taken, one calculated move at a time.

Her chief of staff, Ed Langston, was sitting across from her, nervously adjusting his tie as Zander glared at her laptop screen. The viral story about Dr. Sally Richards was still plastered across every major news outlet.

“‘Governor Sara Zander’s Indoctrination Control Office under fire,’” Zander read aloud, her voice dripping with venom. “‘Professor placed on indefinite probation after students accuse her of “woke” teaching.’” She slammed the laptop shut. “I’m tired of hearing her name.”

Langston cleared his throat. “The story isn’t dying down, Governor. If anything, it’s gaining traction. Members of Congress are starting to weigh in, and advocacy groups—”

“Advocacy groups,” Zander sneered, cutting him off. “A bunch of professional whiners with Twitter accounts. I don’t care about them.”

“It’s not just advocacy groups,” Langston pressed, though his voice was cautious. “This is national now. Diane Hooper’s calling for an investigation into federal funding for Arkansas schools. If they pull that funding, it’ll be a disaster—”

“For who?” Zander interrupted, leaning forward. Her icy blue eyes locked onto Langston’s, and he immediately looked away. “It won’t be a disaster for me, Ed. It’ll be a disaster for the schools. For the teachers. For the students. I’ll spin it as the federal government punishing Arkansas for protecting our children. Do you know how many votes that’ll get me in this state? And in every other red state watching us?”

Langston hesitated. “Still, the optics—”

“Optics don’t matter,” Zander snapped. “Results matter. Control matters. And right now, that woman—” she spat the word like a curse—“is threatening my control.”

She stood, her tailored navy suit as sharp and precise as the movements of her hands. Zander was tall, with a presence that filled any room she entered. She walked to the window, looking out over the governor’s mansion grounds. The manicured gardens were lit up by soft, golden lights, a picture of perfection.

“I don’t care about Sally Richards,” Zander said, her back to Langston. “She’s nobody. A middle-aged history professor at some second-rate university. She’s not the problem.”

Langston frowned. “Then what is the problem?”

Zander turned, her face a mask of icy determination. “The problem is that she’s become a symbol. To the left, she’s a martyr. To the media, she’s a headline. And to anyone who opposes me, she’s proof that I can be challenged. That’s what I won’t allow.”

Langston swallowed hard. He had worked for Zander long enough to know that her ambition had no ceiling. She wasn’t content to just be governor of Arkansas. She wanted the White House, and everyone in her orbit knew it. But ambition like hers came with a cost—usually paid by anyone who got in her way.

“What do you want to do about her?” Langston asked.

Zander paced the room, her mind racing. She wasn’t just thinking about Sally Richards. She was thinking about how every decision she made now would echo years down the line. Every move had to be calculated, every action designed to strengthen her grip on power.

“I need to end this,” she said finally, her voice cold and steady. “But not in a way that makes her a martyr. If I come down too hard, she’ll become a rallying cry for every left-wing nutjob in the country. But if I let her off too easily, I look weak.”

Langston nodded slowly. “So… what’s the middle ground?”

Zander’s lips curled into a smile. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was the kind of smile that made people nervous, the kind of smile that said she had already figured out how to destroy you.

“We frame her as unstable,” Zander said. “A rogue professor who can’t handle criticism. Someone who overreacted and created this entire controversy herself. We leak stories about her emotional instability, her outbursts in class, her ‘difficult’ relationship with students. Make it look like she’s the problem, not the policy.”

Langston raised an eyebrow. “Do we have anything like that on her?”

“We don’t need anything real,” Zander said, waving a hand dismissively. “We just need enough whispers to make people doubt her. A rumor here, a hint there. By the time anyone tries to fact-check it, the damage will be done.”

Langston hesitated. “And if that doesn’t work?”

Zander’s smile faded. “If that doesn’t work, we turn up the pressure. Make her life so miserable that she quits on her own. Anonymous threats, protests outside her house, students refusing to attend her classes. It’ll all look organic, of course. Nothing that can be traced back to us.”

Langston shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “That’s… risky.”

“Everything worth doing is risky,” Zander said sharply. “Do you think I got here by playing it safe? By waiting for things to fall into my lap? No, Ed. I took what I wanted. And I’ll keep taking until there’s nothing left to take.”

She returned to her desk and sat down, the glow of the desk lamp casting shadows across her face.

“Contact our media team,” she ordered. “I want a press conference scheduled for tomorrow. I’ll reiterate my commitment to protecting Arkansas students from indoctrination. No mention of Sally Richards by name—she doesn’t deserve that much recognition. Just focus on the policy.”

Langston nodded, rising from his seat. “Understood.”

As he turned to leave, Zander called after him. “And Ed?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Remember this: Sally Richards is just the first. There will be others. And we’ll handle them all the same way.”

Langston swallowed hard, nodding before disappearing through the door.

As the door clicked shut, Zander leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled beneath her chin.

The Sally Richards situation was annoying, yes. But in a way, it was also an opportunity. A chance to prove just how ruthless she could be. A chance to remind everyone watching—her allies, her enemies, the voters she’d one day court on the national stage—that Sara Zander wasn’t just a governor.

She was a force.

Her eyes flicked to the portrait of George Washington hanging on the wall.

“You were a Deist,” she muttered. “And this country isn’t a Christian nation. But none of that matters now, does it? People believe what I tell them to believe. And when I’m done, they’ll believe that Sara Zander belongs in the White House.”

She picked up her phone and dialed another number. “Get me the national committee. I want them ready to back the Student Protection Act by the end of the week.”

Zander ended the call, a slow smile spreading across her face.

The game was in motion. And Sara Zander always played to win.