In this gripping tale, our fierce protagonist, named 𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐧, finds herself stripped of everything after a devastating divorce. Determined to seek justice for herself and her family, she hits rock bottom, struggling to even put food on t...
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AT THE STATE HALL COUNCIL
Outside the towering walls of the state hall, dawn finally broke. Pale sunlight crept across the stone steps and wide courtyards, washing away the darkness of the night. The city stirred awake slowly, unaware that history was about to be written within those walls. Supporters who had camped outside through the night began to rise, murmurs spreading through the crowd as anticipation thickened the air.
Today was the final day of the election.
After weeks of tension, propaganda, and silent power plays, only two names remained on the ballot—Philip and Aliyah. By the end of the day, once the last vote was counted and verified, the country would have a new president. For millions of citizens, this day represented hope, fear, and uncertainty all tangled together.
But before the results could be announced, tradition demanded one final formality.
Each candidate would be given a last opportunity to address the nation. Inside the state hall, Philip sat alone in the waiting room, clad in his crisp military uniform. The medals on his chest caught the morning light, but they did nothing to soften his rigid posture.
His back was straight, his hands resting calmly on his knees, his expression unreadable. He stared out the window, watching the sky brighten inch by inch, as if the world outside was detached from the storm raging within him.
There was no anxiety on his face. No anticipation. No visible emotion at all.
Only stillness.
Suddenly, the door was pushed open without warning.
The sharp, deliberate sound of heels striking the marble floor echoed through the room. Philip didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. He knew exactly who it was the moment he heard that confident, unhurried stride. Aliyah walked in as if she owned the place.
Her presence filled the room instantly—composed, assured, and faintly smug. She stopped a few steps behind him, her reflection appearing faintly in the glass of the window he was staring through.
“Philip,” she said lightly, her voice smooth and measured, “why don’t you go first for the speech?”
Though the words were phrased like a question, her tone betrayed her true intent. There was no curiosity in it. No room for refusal. It sounded less like a suggestion and more like an instruction—one she fully expected him to obey.
Philip turned around slowly, deliberately, as if every movement was weighed down by restraint. His dark eyes locked onto Aliyah’s face, sharp and penetrating. He didn’t say a single word, yet the question in his gaze was unmistakable—cold, wary, and edged with suspicion.
What are you plotting this time?
Aliyah caught that look and didn’t shy away from it. Instead, her crimson lips curved into a thin, knowing smile, one that carried neither warmth nor goodwill—only calculation.
