𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

“ The Confrontation ”

The night air was heavy with tension as Beyoncé and Onika stood in the middle of a dark, open field. The moon cast an eerie glow over the scene, accentuating the shadows and creating an atmosphere of unease. Onika’s eyes darted nervously around the field, her paranoia palpable.

"Why did you bring me out here?" Onika demanded, her voice trembling slightly. "This is ridiculous. We’re completely exposed."

Beyoncé remained calm, her demeanor collected despite the growing tension. "Madam President, we need to stay calm. This is part of the negotiation strategy. It’s important that we handle this situation with control."

Onika’s anxiety was evident as she paced back and forth. "Control? How can we have control when we’re out in the middle of nowhere with a blackmailer who probably has a gun? This is insane!"

Beyoncé sighed, rolling her eyes with a hint of frustration. She slipped her hands into her coat pockets, trying to project an aura of calm despite the high-stress situation. "I understand you’re scared, but panicking won’t help. Just follow my lead."

A car’s headlights pierced the darkness, signaling the arrival of their adversary. Onika stiffened, her nerves on edge. "Shut up," she snapped at Beyoncé, her voice strained with fear.

The car came to a halt, and the figure of the blackmailer emerged. He was clad in a dark hoodie and a face mask, holding a file in one hand and a gun in the other. He approached them with a menacing air, the barrel of the gun pointed towards them.

"Where’s the money?" the blackmailer demanded, his voice rough and unsteady.

Onika squealed and instinctively jumped behind Beyoncé, clutching at her arm with a vice-like grip. Beyoncé winced at the pressure but remained composed, facing the blackmailer with a mixture of irritation and resolve.

"You’re not going to shoot," Beyoncé said with a dismissive tone, her voice carrying a sense of authority. "You’re just some amateur hacker who took a risk hacking into the President’s personal account. When you got in, you even surprised yourself. So now you’re trying to act intimidating. Give me the photos and stop embarrassing yourself."

The blackmailer faltered slightly, his confidence wavering. He took a step closer, stuttering as he demanded the money. Beyoncé’s eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin.

"I’m not giving you any money," Beyoncé said firmly. "You’re getting a free pass here because I’m not involving White House security. I suggest you take the offer and leave."

Onika, still hidden behind Beyoncé, gripped her arm tighter. Beyoncé hissed softly at the pressure but quickly covered Onika’s hand with her own gloved one, trying to offer reassurance. "Give me the photos and leave," Beyoncé said, her voice steady and commanding.

The blackmailer, now visibly nervous, raised the gun and fired a shot into the air. The sound echoed through the field, adding to the already charged atmosphere. "Where’s the money?" he demanded again, his voice tinged with desperation.

Onika screamed, her fear escalating. Beyoncé’s eyes remained fixed on the blackmailer as she took out her phone. "You’d have already shot if you had the guts," Beyoncé said, her voice unflinching. "So if you don’t want me to call the authorities right now, give me the photos and leave."

The blackmailer’s hands trembled as he hesitated. Beyoncé’s calm, assertive demeanor seemed to rattle him. She continued to hold her phone up, ready to make the call if necessary. Onika’s grip on Beyoncé’s arm remained tight, her breathing erratic.