The palace was in chaos as Celestina’s advisors rushed to contain the fallout from the damning news article. Papers and files cluttered the long table in the meeting room, and voices overlapped as they argued about the best way to respond. Celestina sat at the head of the table, silent and seething.

“We’ve issued a public statement denying the accusations,” Anton said, his voice strained. “But it’s not enough. The media is running with this, and the people are eating it up.”

Celestina’s hand tightened around the armrest of her chair. “Whoever planted this story knew exactly how to strike. They hit where it hurts most—public trust.”

One advisor, a younger woman with glasses, chimed in nervously. “We need more than denials. We have to show action, transparency—something tangible to prove the allegations are false.”

“And what exactly do you suggest?” Celestina asked, her voice sharp. “Should I throw open the palace doors and let the protesters raid the treasury?”

The woman stammered, “N-no, of course not, Madam President. I just meant—”

“Enough,” Celestina interrupted, her tone final. “This meeting is over. Come back to me with real solutions, not empty words.”

As the room cleared, Liora lingered by the door, watching Celestina closely. When they were alone, she approached the table and sat across from her.

“This will pass, Celestina,” Liora said, her tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve survived worse.”

Celestina let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her hair. “Have I? Because it doesn’t feel that way. I feel like the walls are closing in, Liora. Every time I take a step forward, someone pulls me back.”

Liora leaned forward, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “Then stop letting them. Fight back. Let me run a campaign to show the people who you really are—the leader who saved them from Alvada’s tyranny.”

Celestina met Liora’s gaze, her eyes weary. “Do you really think that will make a difference? Lies spread faster than the truth. The people don’t want facts—they want someone to blame.”

Liora’s expression hardened. “Then we give them someone to blame. Find the source of the leak and make an example of them.”

Hours later, Celestina’s paranoia reached new heights when Anton burst into her office with grim news.

“We found the leak,” he announced, his face pale.

Celestina set down the report she’d been reviewing and stood. “Who?”

Anton hesitated. “One of your advisors—Geoffrey. We caught him passing documents to a journalist. He claims he was doing it to protect the people, but we found evidence of bribes from a rival faction.”

Celestina’s jaw tightened. Geoffrey had been a trusted voice in her administration, someone she had relied on for advice during some of her toughest decisions.

“Bring him to me,” she said coldly.

Moments later, Geoffrey was dragged into the office by two guards. His face was flushed with embarrassment and fear, but he stood tall as he faced Celestina.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice sharp as a blade. “Why would you do this?”

Geoffrey swallowed hard. “Because the people deserve to know the truth. You’re trying, but it’s not enough. They’re starving, and you’re sitting in this palace—”

“Do not pretend this was for the people,” Celestina interrupted, her voice rising. “You sold us out. You sold me out. Do you have any idea the damage you’ve caused?”

Geoffrey’s defiance faltered, and he looked away. “I did what I thought was right.”

Celestina’s chest burned with anger, but she forced herself to stay composed. “Take him to the holding cells,” she ordered the guards. “We’ll deal with him later.”

As the door slammed shut behind Geoffrey, Celestina sank back into her chair, her hands trembling. How many more betrayals would she face before this was over?

Later that night, Celestina found herself drawn to the letter she’d rediscovered from Dimitri. She unfolded it, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. But this time, something caught her attention—a pattern in the way certain words were spaced.

Her heart raced as she pieced it together. The words spelled out a hidden message: “Check the safe under the floorboards.”

She immediately went to her old quarters and knelt on the floor, prying up the loose floorboards. Beneath them was a small safe she’d never noticed before. She opened it with shaking hands, revealing a stack of documents.

Her breath caught as she skimmed the first page. It was a record of secret transactions between Alvada and foreign powers—evidence that could bring down the last remnants of his regime.

As she sat at her desk that night, reviewing the damning evidence, the lights flickered. A chill ran down her spine, and she glanced toward the door, half-expecting someone to walk in.

Nothing happened, but the unease lingered. She worked late into the night, her eyes heavy and her body aching.

When she finally leaned back in her chair to rest, she noticed something that hadn’t been there earlier—a small note on the corner of her desk.

Her heart pounded as she picked it up, the message simple but chilling: “You can’t trust anyone.”