The phone felt ice cold in Celestina’s hand as the caller’s grim voice explained the details.

“Madam President,” the voice said, steady but clinical, “Dimitri Veridan’s convoy was targeted by an explosive device while en route to the palace. The bomb detonated near his vehicle. We believe it’s the work of Alvada loyalists. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The words echoed in her ears, distant and surreal. “Dimitri…” Celestina whispered, her voice cracking. Her legs wobbled, and she gripped the table for support.

“Madam President, are you there?” the voice asked.

She couldn’t respond. The phone slipped from her trembling fingers and clattered onto the table. Her knees buckled as an unbearable weight crushed her chest.

Isolde burst into the room moments later, her face etched with concern. “Celestina? What is it?”

Celestina turned to her mother, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. “He’s gone, Mother,” she choked out. “Dimitri… he’s dead.”

Isolde rushed to her daughter’s side, catching her as she collapsed to the floor. “No… that can’t be true,” she said, her voice trembling.

“They said it was a bomb,” Celestina sobbed, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder. “He was coming for Arden. For me. Why did this happen? Why?”

Isolde stroked Celestina’s hair, her own tears falling silently. “Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Meanwhile, chaos erupted in the ballroom. Whispers spread like wildfire as news of the explosion reached the guests. Faces once filled with joy now showed fear and confusion.

A security guard stepped onto the stage, speaking into a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, due to an urgent matter, we must end the event immediately. Please follow security staff to the exits.”

The guests murmured anxiously, their unease palpable as they were escorted out. Questions buzzed among them: What happened? Is the president safe?

Celestina’s chief of security, a stern-faced man named Captain Renz, stormed into her office. “Madam President, the palace is now on lockdown. We’ve deployed additional guards around the perimeter.”

Isolde stood, gently guiding Celestina into a chair. “Thank you, Captain. Make sure no one gets in or out without clearance.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Renz said before leaving to manage the situation.

Celestina sat frozen, her tears now dried but her eyes hollow. Isolde knelt in front of her, gripping her hands tightly.

“You have to pull yourself together, my love,” Isolde said gently but firmly. “Arden needs you. This country needs you.”

Celestina shook her head. “How can I be strong when everything I care about keeps being taken from me?”

Isolde cupped her daughter’s face. “Because you’re Celestina Alvada. You’ve faced impossible odds before and survived. You’ll survive this, too. For Arden.”

The mention of her daughter brought a flicker of life back to Celestina’s gaze. She nodded weakly, whispering, “For Arden.”

Captain Renz returned, his expression grim. “Madam President, we’ve received a disturbing development.”

“What is it?” Celestina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Renz hesitated, then placed a small plastic evidence bag on the table. Inside was a crumpled piece of paper.

“This was found near the site of the explosion,” Renz explained.

Celestina’s heart sank as she read the note. Written in jagged, angry handwriting were the words: His daughter is next.

She gasped, clutching the bag tightly. “They’re threatening Arden,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Isolde’s face went pale. “No. No one will touch that child,” she said, her voice firm. She turned to Renz. “Double the security around Arden. Around Celestina. Around the entire palace.”