The morning sunlight streamed into the palace training room as Nivea sat stiffly in a chair, her nerves clear in her fidgeting hands. Celestina stood beside her, holding a folder of notes while a stylist adjusted the angle of Nivea’s chin.

“You’ll need more than my face,” Celestina said, her tone calm but firm. “You have to carry my strength, too. People won’t just look at you—they’ll scrutinize you. They’ll search for any sign of weakness.”

Nivea met Celestina’s gaze in the mirror. “No pressure, right?” she said with a nervous laugh.

The stylist finished applying the final touches, stepping back to admire her work. “It’s uncanny,” she said. “With a little more practice, no one will ever suspect you’re not the real president.”

Nivea turned to Celestina, her expression doubtful. “You really think this will work?”

“It has to,” Celestina replied simply. “For all our sakes.”

The transformation wasn’t just physical. Along with her new appearance—slightly darker hair, carefully applied makeup to highlight her resemblance to Celestina, and a wardrobe of tailored suits—Nivea had to learn to carry herself with the authority and composure of a leader.

In the palace courtyard, Celestina walked alongside Nivea, demonstrating her measured stride. “Shoulders back, chin up,” she instructed. “Every movement needs to say, ‘I belong here.’”

Nivea mimicked her, though her steps felt awkward. “I’m worried my legs will give out,” she admitted.

“They won’t,” Celestina said. “Confidence comes from within. If you believe you’re me, they’ll believe it too.”

Nivea stopped, her eyes searching Celestina’s face. “Why are you trusting me with this? You barely know me.”

Celestina hesitated, her expression softening. “Because I don’t have a choice,” she said quietly.

In the days that followed, Celestina spent hours coaching Nivea on how to handle difficult questions, address a crowd, and maintain her composure under pressure. Despite her initial doubts, Nivea began to improve, though it was clear she still struggled with self-doubt.

One evening, after a particularly grueling session, Nivea slumped into a chair in Celestina’s office.

“I don’t know how you do this every day,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I feel like everyone’s staring at me, waiting for me to mess up.”

Celestina offered a faint smile. “They are. But that’s the job. You’ll get used to it.”

Nivea looked at her, exhausted. “What if I can’t? What if I fail?”

Celestina placed a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t. And even if you stumble, you’ll have people around you to catch you. I made sure of that.”

The first real test came during a small charity event at a local hospital. It was a low-risk appearance meant to ease Nivea into her role, with Dimitri and Celestina watching from behind the scenes.

Dressed in one of Celestina’s signature navy-blue suits, Nivea walked into the hospital’s reception area, greeted by staff and a handful of reporters. She smiled nervously, shaking hands and offering polite remarks.

“You’re doing fine,” Dimitri whispered through her earpiece, his voice steady.

Nivea kept her responses brief, sticking to the script she had rehearsed. But the weight of the stares—each pair of eyes analyzing her every move—was overwhelming.

When the event finally ended, Nivea returned to the car, her hands trembling. “They were all staring at me like they knew I was a fraud,” she said, slumping into her seat.

“No one knew,” Dimitri said calmly. “You fooled them all. But you’ll need to be stronger. This was the easy part.”

Nivea let out a shaky laugh. “This was easy? Great. What’s the hard part?”

Dimitri didn’t answer, his expression unreadable.

As the days turned into weeks, Nivea’s training intensified. Celestina began to notice something she hadn’t anticipated—Dimitri was spending more and more time with Nivea.

At first, it was easy to dismiss. Dimitri had taken personal responsibility for Nivea’s safety and training, and his sharp eye for detail made him the perfect mentor. But there were moments when Celestina couldn’t ignore the growing connection between them.

One evening, as Celestina passed by the training room, she heard low voices coming from inside.

“You’re doing better than you think,” Dimitri said softly.

“I’m not so sure,” Nivea replied, her tone uncertain. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just pretending. Like I’m just this… placeholder for someone who’s actually important.”

“You’re more than that,” Dimitri said. “You’re stepping into something bigger than yourself. Don’t undermine yourself.”

Celestina lingered by the door, her heart sinking. She knew Dimitri was only doing his job, but the warmth in his voice felt… personal. She couldn’t shake the twinge of jealousy rising within her.