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Fever Dreams And Flooded Streets
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2025-08-03 00:01:05Isla’s POV
The first thing I noticed was how hot her skin was. Sophie usually kicked her blankets off in her sleep, but tonight she was curled in a tight ball, her cheeks flushed and breath uneven. I reached for her forehead with instinct I did not even question anymore.She was burning. “Sophie,” I whispered, brushing the sweaty strands from her face. “Baby, wake up.” She whimpered but did not open her eyes. Panic buzzed low in my throat. I pressed the back of my hand against her neck, then her chest. All too warm. I fumbled for the thermometer, praying I was just being paranoid, praying this was not real.It beeped. 39.6°C 103.3°F I bolted upright. It was close to midnight. The rain outside had not stopped all day, steady, heavy, like the sky itself was grieving with me. Thunder grumbled in the distance, and the wind clawed at the window panes.I looked around the small apartment Lia had helped me rent, barely big enough to hold t
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Unworthy No More The Wounds Of Victory
Isla’s POVThe Blake mansion used to intimidate me once, all marble, chandeliers, and silence thick with judgment. Now, even from a distance, I imagine that silence has curdled into something else... isolation. The kind that gnaws at the heart.I heard through the quiet channels of Chicago society that Viola Blake, the woman Nathaniel once brought into our home, has not slept in weeks. The twins cry through the night, and the staff, once eager to please, now move with cold indifference. Nathaniel no longer returns home. He’s swallowed by his own chaos, and Viola, once draped in smug triumph, now feeds her babies alone under chandeliers that flicker from neglect.The mansion that once sparkled with arrogance has turned into a golden cage. I should not care. I tell myself that every time her name comes up. But the truth is, I do not feel anger anymore, only a deep, detached understanding of how fragile illusions can be.Mrs. Blake was not faring better. Society, the same circle she once
Unworthy No More The Unraveling
Isla’s POVFor a moment, I allowed myself to breathe, to feel the rare quiet that had become precious over the last months. But the feeling was fleeting.The first hint came in a delivery van that never arrived. A shipment of essential supplies had gone missing, supposedly “lost in transit.” My gut twisted. Not lost. Stolen. Someone wanted to test the boundaries of what I could tolerate, to see if the woman who had walked out of Nathaniel Blake’s house a year and a half ago could still be shaken.I traced the issue across spreadsheets, tracking routes, receipts, and contact logs. Each irregularity whispered a truth I already knew, Nathaniel was back, and he had allies I had yet to uncover.“They’re testing us,” I murmured, mostly to myself, as I ran a hand through my hair. The office staff moved around me with quiet efficiency, aware that even a whisper from me carried authority.A soft knock at the door drew my attention. Alexander stepped in, his expression calm but unreadable, a fi
Unworthy No More Nathaniel’s Reckoning
Isla’s POVThe calm of the city was deceptive that morning. It felt as if there was a thin veil stretched over chaos waiting to strike. Even the air seemed to hold its breath, charged with an unease that prickled beneath the skin. Nathaniel Blake had finally abandoned subtlety. His moves were brazen now...coordinated leaks to the media, attacks on The Dawn Foundation’s supply lines, even anonymous threats sent directly to staff and volunteers.He was no longer a shadow lurking in the background. He was a storm raging, desperate to drag us down with him. But storms, no matter how violent, always meet the dawn. I felt it before Alexander even told me, the shift, the whispers, the subtle disruptions that hinted at a larger plan. The kind of coordination that reeked of government interference. Someone powerful was backing Nathaniel, feeding his arrogance, shielding his crimes.Alexander leaned over the table strewn with coded reports and intercepted messages. His expression was calm but h
Unworthy No More Victory Consolidated And Nathaniel’s Escalation
Isla’s POVThe victory speech was both exhilarating and grounding. Standing on the podium before a crowd that stretched city blocks, I felt the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. Not the kind of weight that crushes, but the kind that shapes, that molds, that demands courage and clarity.“Today is not about me,” I declared, my voice strong, resonant and spreading across the sea of faces. “Today is about every woman, every child, every life that deserves protection, opportunity, and dignity. Together, we will build a future where no one is silenced, no one is threatened, and every voice matters.”Applause erupted, deafening and genuine. Cameras flashed, media coverage exploded, and the world began to recognize the power of the NGO’s work translated into political authority. This was more than a campaign win, it was a declaration of resilience, hope, and unstoppable force.Backstage, Alexander was waiting, eyes scanning the crowd, body poised, alert. “You did it,” he said q
Unworthy No More The High-Stakes Campaign
Isla’s POVMy campaign had gained traction. The rallies were overflowing, media interviews were amplifying our message, volunteers were working tirelessly, but the higher I rose, the more dangerous the air became.Nathaniel Blake was no longer subtle. His whispers had evolved into strikes. Anonymous tip-offs, online smear campaigns, and attempts to turn public opinion against me. I felt it first during a debate.The moderator asked a question about my NGO and political experience. I answered clearly, passionately, grounding my response in the real stories of women whose lives we had changed. Yet across the stage, an opponent smirked knowingly, planting a seed of doubt in the audience’s mind: “Ms Hart, has done remarkable work, but can she handle the responsibilities of political office? Or is this just another stage for personal ambition?”The words stung, not because they were untrue, but because Nathaniel had orchestrated them. Backstage, my hands shook, not from fear but from frust
Unworthy No More Campaign Launch
Isla’s POVI felt surreal as I arrived at the campaign headquarters. A sense of electricity thrummed in the air, hundreds of volunteers, journalists, and supporters moving with purpose. Their energy was contagious, a reminder that this was bigger than me. Bigger than Alexander. Bigger than any single fight.I stepped onto the stage for the first time as a Senate candidate. Cameras flashed, microphones hovered, and for a heartbeat, the noise threatened to drown out my thoughts. But then I felt it, Alexander’s presence in the wings, steady, protective, unwavering. Shoulder to shoulder, we had faced darkness together. This was no different.I took a deep breath and addressed the crowd, my voice firm, confident, yet warm. “Every woman, every child, every mother deserves safety, opportunity, and dignity. My work with The Dawn Foundation has shown me that change is possible when we stand together. Today, I ask you to join me, to stand not just for me, but for every life that matters in our
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