Celestina sat in her office, surrounded by stacks of papers detailing the grim reality of the nation’s financial collapse. Charts, reports, and endless pages of numbers blurred together as her eyes skimmed over them. Her chest felt tight as the enormity of the task ahead sank in.

“The treasury is empty,” she muttered to herself, running a hand through her hair. “The debts are astronomical, the people are furious, and we’re months away from default.”

Dimitri entered the room quietly, a tray with two cups of tea in his hands. “You’ve been in here all day,” he said, setting the tray on her desk. “Take a break. Even presidents need to breathe.”

She looked up at him, her expression weary. “I can’t stop, Dimitri. The more I read, the worse it gets. Every solution we come up with barely scratches the surface.”

Dimitri took a seat across from her, his tone soft but firm. “You can’t solve everything overnight, Celestina. The road ahead is long, but you’re not walking it alone.”

She smiled faintly, grateful for his presence. “I just keep thinking… how did we get here? How did my father let this happen?”

“He didn’t let it happen,” Dimitri replied, his jaw tightening. “He made it happen. He drained this nation for his own gain and left you to pick up the pieces.”

Outside the palace, protests continued to rage. Angry citizens filled the streets, their voices echoing with demands for answers.

But among the chaos, small groups of supporters gathered as well. They held handmade signs with messages of hope: “Celestina, We Believe in You!” and “For a Brighter Future!”

From her balcony, Celestina watched the mix of anger and faith below. One woman in the crowd caught her eye—a mother holding a young child, her face weary but her eyes filled with determination.

“They still believe in you,” Dimitri said, joining her on the balcony. “Even with everything going wrong, some of them still have hope.”

“It’s humbling,” Celestina said quietly. “But it’s also terrifying. What if I let them down?”

“You won’t,” Dimitri said with certainty. “Because you’re fighting for them. That’s more than your father ever did.”

Her gaze lingered on the mother in the crowd. “If they’re willing to fight for me, then I have to keep fighting for them.”

Later that evening, as Celestina poured over more financial reports, Dimitri sat across from her, lost in thought. Finally, he spoke.

“I have an idea,” he began hesitantly.

She glanced up at him. “I’m listening.”

“I have assets—properties, investments, money I’ve saved over the years. It’s not much compared to what we need, but it could help stabilize things in the short term.”

Celestina’s eyes widened. “Dimitri, no. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not up for debate,” he said firmly. “If it can keep this country from falling apart, then it’s worth it.”

She shook her head, her voice trembling. “You’ve already given so much, Dimitri. Your safety, your freedom—now you want to give up everything you have left? I won’t allow it.”

He reached across the desk, taking her hand in his. “This isn’t just about money, Celestina. It’s about showing the people that we’re willing to sacrifice for them. If they see us making sacrifices, maybe they’ll believe we’re serious about rebuilding.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Thank you, Dimitri. But we’ll find another way. I won’t let you carry this burden alone.”

The following morning, Celestina called for a press conference in the palace courtyard. Citizens, reporters, and rebel leaders gathered to hear her address the nation.

She stepped up to the podium, her voice clear and strong despite the weight on her shoulders.

“My fellow citizens,” she began, “we are facing one of the greatest challenges in our nation’s history. The financial crisis left by my father’s regime has pushed us to the brink. But I refuse to let this nation fall.”

The crowd murmured, a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

“I am announcing a comprehensive recovery plan,” she continued. “This plan includes rooting out corruption, recovering stolen assets, and rebuilding trust in our government. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be quick. But I promise you this: we will rise again.”

Her words were met with scattered applause, but the skepticism in some faces remained. She could feel the weight of their doubt, but she pressed on.

“We’ll need to work together,” she said. “This recovery isn’t just about policies or plans—it’s about unity. If we stand together, I believe we can overcome anything.”

That evening, as Celestina prepared for a crucial meeting with her advisors, she found a small envelope on her desk.

Frowning, she opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The message was short, but its meaning was clear:

“The throne is not yours to keep. Watch your back.”