Shaking her head, Livia felt a surge of exhilaration rise within her. She knew she had to inform her “allies” immediately and announce the victory she had secured in this political battle. Under the night sky, she strode forward with unwavering determination, as if each step she took was carving out the path to the future.
The scene shifted to the dimly lit hospital corridor, where the flickering lights cast fragmented shadows on the walls. By Marcellus’s bedside, the atmosphere was both heavy and intimate. After a day of rest, his condition had noticeably improved—his complexion looked rosier, and the bandages wrapped around his wounds hinted at the beginnings of recovery. But what stood out the most was the gleam in his eyes, as if he had already learned of Livia’s success. His lips trembled slightly, and a faint murmur escaped them:
“I knew you could do it.”
That simple remark struck Livia straight to the heart like a wave of warmth. She sighed lightly, her tone laced with both rel
