pte

Worth Ki

, the photo splayed on her keyboard like a weapon. She couldn't stop staring at her own face - that candid smile, care

ard none of it. Only the loud, rhythmic, and alert echo of her own heartbeat. Who took that picture? No, not Rourke. He wouldn't have to use nostalgia as a weapon against her. And not Kelvin, who did not engage in photography business. He pref

iven her previously "just in case." She had believed that he was the end of the drama. Evidently, it hadn't. She walked briskly through the hallway, ignoring the stares, the invitations, the clinking of glass

gave an address she hadn

nted to watch

start wat

asn't just abou

about

ad no intention of

and now, the polished face of a reformist political movement cloaked in idealism. Beneath that facade, however, lay the mind of a tactician who thrived in shadows

concert pianist, numbs herself with routine, and his father, a postal worker, drank his frustrations. Victor observed. Al

ations from there because his skills were too valuable for the public eye. He was given the role of handler to Elena Vostrikova, a gifted intelligence agent with a troubled past and a resolute sense of justice at the time. Their

Elena began questioning orders and going off-script, Victor made the coldest move of his

birth, moral integrity. But behind closed doors, he is orchestrating the very opposite: a secret coup to dismantle the current democratic structure and install a technocratic regime loyal o

ollapse. The only variable he cannot fully control is Elena. Somewh

correspondence between Victor Lang and foreign operatives detailing strategic disruption plans in key states. At first, Victor dismissed it as a smear. Disinformation was part of the landscape. Things began to spi

trayed no emotion. He read the report after removing the tablet from Patrick's shaking hands. Not only had the leak been traced back to a sec

a coincidence. Elena was back

t worse than exposure was Elena's vendetta. She wouldn't simply seek justice. She'd make it personal. She would drag him into the light, where cameras would devour his meticulo

s going to a conference on foreign diplomacy. Instead, he met with Colonel Varek, a former black-ops

grainy surveillance photo. Elena, disguised in a courier uniform, w

eneath the surface. "She's not here to leak more

alone. Word is, someone inside y

d was deteriorating. There was a mole in his inner

sset with a questionable loyalty record. An

g the plane take off into the dusk. "Let's see how far you'l