Semua Bab PERKS OF THE POSITION : Bab 131 - Bab 140

GERALDThe annual Sovereign Children's Gala was one of London's most prestigious events.Every year, politicians, diplomats, billionaires, and philanthropists gathered beneath the towering blue whale skeleton inside the Natural History Museum, smiling for cameras while writing generous cheques for charity.It was diplomacy dressed as celebration.As President of the Sovereign Agency, I didn't have the luxury of skipping it.I stood beside the champagne tower with a crystal flute in my hand that I'd barely touched. My tuxedo felt tighter than usual, the collar pressing against my throat.Claire, on the other hand, looked effortless.Her ice-blue satin gown caught the light every time she moved, and her warm smile charmed everyone she spoke to. At that moment she was laughing softly with the French ambassador and his wife."President Gerald," the ambassador said, raising his glass. "Congratulations on the new intelligence accord. Paris has never felt more confident in our partnership."

GERALDThe headline exploded across every news site before dawn.THE PRESIDENT'S SECRET EXPOSED: THE WOMAN BEHIND THE SHADOW GOVERNMENTBy six in the morning, it was impossible to escape.Every television channel was talking about it.Every social media platform had picked it up.Every major newspaper had a version of the same story.Front and center was a photograph from the Sovereign Children's Gala.Veronica.Descending the marble staircase in that crimson deadly dress.Beneath it was another photograph.One that should never have existed outside a classified archive.She was leaving my Hampshire estate late at night, bruises shadowing her jaw, her silver-rimmed glasses clutched in one hand as she climbed into an unmarked vehicle.My stomach twisted.The article wasn't just gossip.It was a weapon.It named Veronica as my former strategist.It hinted at covert operations.It questioned the legality of missions carried out under my administration.It painted her as the woman secretl

VERONICAThe media suite at the top of Eagles Tower was unusually quiet.The only sound came from the steady hum of the servers lining the far wall.A large television mounted across from my desk played BBC World News, the bright studio lights standing in sharp contrast to the muted calm of my office.I sat behind my glass desk in a charcoal pinstripe suit, my hair pulled into a neat knot at the nape of my neck. My silver-rimmed glasses rested comfortably on my face as I watched the broadcast without expression.Claire Laurant-Gerald filled the screen.She was dressed in ivory from head to toe, every detail carefully chosen. Soft makeup. Tear-filled eyes. A trembling smile that looked rehearsed.She wanted the audience to see a wounded wife."I stayed quiet for as long as I could," Claire said, her voice shaking. "I wanted to protect my husband and the presidency. But people deserve to know the truth."A tear slipped down her cheek."Veronica Everest isn't just a security consultant."

VERONICA Finally I have ticked off yet another childhood dream of mine…the shelter we wish we had while younger. I stood on the second-floor balcony of the central administrative building, looking down over the quadrangle.I wore a bright yellow wool suit, a high-collared white blouse, and my hair pulled back into its usual tight knot. My glasses sat low on my bridge, displaying a quiet stream of live data across my vision: perimeter sensors, water filtration metrics, thermal grids, and intake logs for the seventy-four children brought in from overseas conflict zones over the last two days.The orphanage home- Safe Haven is fully funded through the Eagles Trust, and completely disconnected from government oversight."The final transfer from the Geneva account settled at six," Carolina said, stepping out onto the balcony beside me.She wore a blue coat against the morning dampness, holding a tablet with the day’s rosters. Her voice was unusually quiet, stripped of its typical sharp e

GERALD Rain drummed softly against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Vicky & Bloom’s boardroom, blurring London's skyline into shades of gray. The polished table reflected the city like dark water, while the quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the long stretches of silence.No one seemed eager to speak.Papers rustled. A pen clicked against the tabletop.Across from me sat Claire.She looked nothing like the woman I'd married.Her navy suit was immaculate, every button fastened, every strand of blonde hair pinned into a perfect bun but no amount of expensive makeup could hide the dark circles beneath her eyes. She seemed smaller somehow, as though the last few weeks had stripped away the confidence she used to wear like armor.Beside her sat Maître Henri Dupont, her father's high-powered attorney. The man had built a reputation frightening CEOs into surrendering before negotiations even began.On my side of the table sat Alistair Sterling, whose legal career had outlasted four adm