The palace halls, once quiet and filled with tension, were now alive with the soft coos of a baby. Celestina sat by the nursery window, cradling her daughter, Arden, in her arms. The morning sun spilled through the glass, casting a warm glow on both mother and child. Arden’s tiny hand gripped Celestina’s finger, and a soft laugh escaped her lips.

“You don’t know it yet,” Celestina whispered, brushing a kiss against her daughter’s forehead, “but you’ve changed everything. You’re my light, Hope Arden.” Her voice trembled with emotion, a mix of love and relief.

Isolde entered the room, her face lighting up the moment she saw them. “You’re spending every second with her, aren’t you?” she teased gently.

Celestina glanced up, smiling. “Can you blame me? I’ve waited my entire life for this kind of peace.”

Isolde approached and held out her hands. “Come here, little one. It’s Grandma’s turn.”

Arden fussed briefly as Isolde lifted her, but the older woman rocked her expertly, humming a soothing tune. “I missed seeing you grow up, Celestina. I won’t miss a second of this little one’s life,” she said, her voice thick with unspoken regret.

Celestina rested her head against the back of the chair, watching the pair. “She’ll know love, Mother. The kind I always wished for. That’s my promise to her.”

Later that day, Celestina stepped out onto the balcony to greet the crowd gathered outside the palace. The people had been chanting Arden’s name for hours, their spirits lifted by the news of her birth. As she waved, the crowd erupted into cheers.

An advisor leaned in and whispered, “The morale across the country has never been higher, Madam President. Arden has become a symbol of hope for everyone.”

Celestina nodded, smiling faintly as she looked out at the faces of her people. “She’s brought light into all our lives,” she said softly.

That evening, as Celestina fed Arden in the nursery, Isolde sat beside her with a cup of tea. The room was quiet except for Arden’s soft breaths and the occasional crackle of the fireplace.

“We should host a grand welcoming party for her,” Isolde suggested, breaking the silence.

Celestina blinked, surprised. “A party? You think that’s wise? The risks…”

Isolde held up a hand. “Hear me out. This isn’t just about Arden. It’s about showing the people that the Alvada name isn’t a shadow anymore. It’s about rebuilding trust, showing them we’re united. And… it’s about giving Arden a moment she can look back on, knowing how loved she was from the start.”

Celestina looked down at her daughter, who was now fast asleep in her arms. “It sounds beautiful, but I can’t shake the feeling that it might put her in danger. I’ve already risked so much just by bringing her into this world.”

Isolde placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll take every precaution. The palace has never been more secure. And the people deserve to celebrate this little miracle.”

The next morning, as Celestina prepared for her daily meetings, she found herself lingering in the nursery longer than usual. Watching Arden sleep filled her with an unexpected calm, a rare reprieve from the constant pressure of her presidency.

Isolde entered the room, her face thoughtful. “There’s one more thing, Celestina,” she said carefully.

Celestina raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Mother?”

Isolde hesitated, choosing her words with care. “If we do host this party… I think you should invite Dimitri.”

The room went silent, save for the faint ticking of the clock. Celestina’s expression hardened, but she said nothing at first.

Isolde pressed on. “He’s Arden’s father, Celestina. He deserves to be part of this.”