Celestina paced back and forth in her study, the weight of the revelation pressing heavily on her chest. The documents her mother had shown her still lay on her desk, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at them again. Everything she had believed about her father was crumbling, and the mix of guilt and rage bubbling inside her felt unbearable.
She stopped and stared out of the window, her hands resting protectively on her growing belly. I fought so hard to bring him down, thinking I was doing the right thing. But was it enough? Did I even know the full extent of what he’d done?
Her thoughts spiraled, and she slammed her fist against the windowsill.
“Celestina.”
She turned to see her mother, Isolde, standing in the doorway. Her presence was still surreal, like a dream she hadn’t woken from.
“What do you want?” Celestina asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
Isolde stepped inside, her expression soft. “I want to help you. But you need to talk to me first.”
Celestina let out a bitter laugh. “Help me? How? By telling me more lies about the man I’ve spent my whole life defending? The man who destroyed our family?”
Isolde’s face crumpled, but she held her ground. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But don’t let his sins consume you. He may have stolen our past, but he can’t touch your future, Celestina.”
Celestina shook her head, her voice trembling. “How do I even begin to move forward, knowing all of this? Knowing the man I trusted most was a monster?”
“You move forward because of this,” Isolde said, stepping closer and placing a hand gently on Celestina’s stomach. “Because this child needs you to. Because the people need you to.”
By the next morning, the palace was buzzing with activity. News of Isolde’s return had spread like wildfire, and the public’s reaction was divided.
“The president’s mother is alive?” a reporter exclaimed during the morning broadcast. “This raises serious questions about the truthfulness of Celestina’s leadership and her willingness to use personal matters to manipulate the public.”
Outside the palace gates, the protests swelled. Loyalists of Alvada shouted accusations, waving banners that read “Stop the Lies!” and “Alvada Forever!”
Inside, Celestina sat in a tense meeting with her advisors.
“We need to address this head-on,” Anton said firmly. “Release an official statement confirming Isolde’s identity and explaining why she’s only resurfaced now.”
“No,” another advisor countered. “That will only pour fuel on the fire. The loyalists are already accusing her of weaponizing this. The best strategy is to keep quiet and focus on the nation’s recovery.”
Celestina raised a hand to silence the bickering. “Enough,” she said, her tone clipped. “I won’t let my mother’s truth be swept under the rug. The people deserve to know what he did to her—and to us. Release the statement. Let them talk.”
The advisors exchanged uneasy glances but nodded in agreement.
As the meeting ended, Celestina lingered in her seat, staring blankly at the papers in front of her. She didn’t notice Isolde enter until her mother placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Isolde said softly.
Celestina exhaled shakily. “I’m not sure there even is a ‘right thing’ anymore.”
“There is,” Isolde replied, kneeling beside her. “And you’ve already proven you can do it. You’re stronger than he ever gave you credit for.”
Celestina looked at her mother, searching her face for some kind of reassurance. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing everything?”
As the protests outside grew louder, Celestina stood on the balcony of her chambers, watching the crowds below. Some people waved signs of support, calling her a symbol of hope. Others screamed insults, demanding she prove her mother’s identity.
“She’s just like her father!” a man yelled from the crowd. “Manipulative and power-hungry!”
Celestina turned away, her chest tight. The people’s doubts were suffocating her, and the thought of failing them felt like a dagger to her heart.
Liora entered the room, her face pale. “It’s getting worse out there,” she said, gesturing to the chaos below. “We need to do something, Celestina. They’re starting to lose faith in you.”
Celestina bristled at Liora’s bluntness but knew she wasn’t wrong. “What do you suggest?” she asked flatly.
“Proof,” Liora said without hesitation. “Publicly verify your mother’s story. Show them the letters. They need to see the truth for themselves.”
Celestina hesitated, torn between protecting her family’s privacy and the desperate need to restore trust. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally, turning back to the window.
That evening, as Celestina sat at her desk trying to draft a speech, a servant entered with a sealed envelope.
“This just arrived, Madam President,” the servant said, placing it on the desk before leaving.
Celestina opened it cautiously, her heart sinking as she read the message inside:
“If your mother’s alive, maybe your enemies are too.”