Celestina stood in the dimly lit office, her hands gripping the edge of the desk as she steadied herself. Dimitri and Nivea stood across from her, their expressions torn between guilt and desperation. The silence between them was deafening, but Celestina’s voice finally cut through the tension.

“I want the truth,” she demanded, her tone sharp and unwavering. “No more lies, no more excuses. What is going on between you two?”

Nivea stepped forward, her voice trembling. “Madam President, I swear to you, nothing inappropriate has happened. I’ve only ever tried to do what you asked of me.”

“And yet you have a letter from Dimitri,” Celestina shot back, her glare moving to him. “A letter where he pours out his admiration for you.”

Dimitri raised his hands in defense, his voice calm but urgent. “It wasn’t meant the way you’re thinking. I wrote that letter because she’s been struggling in this role, and I wanted to encourage her.”

“Encourage her?” Celestina’s voice cracked as her anger spilled over. “By telling her she’s a light during dark times? By spending every waking moment with her while I’m left in the shadows?”

“It’s not like that, Celestina!” Dimitri insisted, stepping closer. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”

“Am I?” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like the two of you have built something behind my back. Something you didn’t think I’d notice.”

Nivea’s voice broke as she tried to interject. “I never wanted to come between you two. Please believe me, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Stop,” Celestina said coldly, cutting her off. “You’ve done enough.”

Dimitri followed Celestina as she stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

“Celestina, wait!” he called after her.

She spun around, her eyes brimming with tears she refused to let fall. “Don’t, Dimitri. Don’t you dare try to explain this away.”

He stepped closer, his voice soft but pleading. “I would never betray you. You mean everything to me. Nivea is just doing her job—”

“But that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Celestina interrupted, her voice rising. “She’s not just doing her job. She’s taken my place. In my role, in the eyes of the people, and now… with you.”

“That’s not true,” Dimitri said firmly. “No one could ever replace you.”

Celestina’s laugh was bitter. “Then why does it feel like I’m the outsider here? Why does it feel like you care more about her than me?”

Dimitri hesitated, the silence stretching painfully between them.

“That’s what I thought,” Celestina said quietly, turning away.

“Celestina,” he called after her, his voice breaking. “Please don’t walk away like this. Don’t let this tear us apart.”

But she didn’t look back.

In the solitude of her chambers, Celestina stared out the window, her thoughts racing. She felt humiliated, betrayed, and completely alone. She had trusted Dimitri with her life, with her heart, and now she wasn’t sure she could trust anyone.

The doppelgänger plan suddenly felt like a mistake. How could she let someone else step into her shoes, take her place, and not expect things to unravel?

Her hand instinctively moved to her growing stomach, and she closed her eyes. “What kind of leader am I if I can’t even hold my own life together?” she whispered to herself.

The next morning, the rebel leaders held an emergency meeting. Celestina sat at the head of the table, her mind still clouded by the events of the previous night.

“The nation is at a critical point,” one of the leaders said. “We can’t afford distractions, Madam President. The people need you focused on rebuilding, not on personal matters.”

Another leader nodded. “The doppelgänger plan was put in place to protect you and ensure stability. Ending it now would be reckless.”

Celestina looked at them, her expression unreadable. “And what about my child? My safety? At what point does this all become too much of a risk?”

A third leader leaned forward, his voice calm but firm. “You took on this role because you believed in the nation’s future. We need you to lead, Celestina. The people need you to lead.”

She nodded slowly, though her heart wasn’t in it.

That evening, Celestina sat in her study, trying to focus on a stack of reports. The palace felt eerily quiet, the weight of her isolation pressing down on her.

A soft knock on the door broke her concentration. A guard stepped in, handing her a sealed envelope.

“This was delivered to you, Madam President,” he said before retreating.

Celestina opened the envelope and unfolded the note inside. The words, written in elegant script, sent a chill down her spine:

“If you can’t trust those closest to you, how can you lead a nation?”