The room was cold, lit only by a holographic screen projecting numbers cascading downward. The prime minister looked at the president, her eyes narrow, calculating. He sat, his hands trembling slightly on the table.
— You know what these documents can do — she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper.
He didn’t respond. The falling numbers reflected on his face, a choreography of despair.
— Your empire is already in shambles — she continued. — And I have the key to bring it down for good.
He finally looked at her, his eyes flickering with contained rage.
— You underestimate what can survive.
She smiled a quick, almost imperceptible gesture.
— Surviving isn’t the same as winning.
The screen flickered. A document appeared, detailing secrets that could ruin nations. He swallowed hard.
— You have no idea what you’re unleashing.
— I do — she replied, standing up. — And so do you.
She left, leaving him there, motionless, as the numbers continued to fall.
This is not about politics.
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