Chapter 229 Nia

• The leak hit like a grenade in a powder keg. Anonymous sources—likely a disgruntled aide or a rival operative—fed the story to every major outlet. By dawn, headlines blared across screens: President's Speechwriter in Steamy Affair with Billionaire Brother! Grainy photos from the gala, the elevator brush, even a blurred shot from the bunker elevator circulated like wildfire. Pundits dissected the scandal on cable news, speculating on national security breaches tied to Harlan family ties. Vince's approval ratings tanked overnight, the Geneva fallout now poisoned by personal betrayal.
• Nia woke in the coastal retreat to Vardo's phone exploding with alerts. He scanned the feeds, jaw tightening. 'Pack. We're going home—my real home.' No questions, no panic; his voice was steel. The jet ride back was tense, Nia's hand in his, but her mind raced to Vince—his tear-streaked face from days ago now amplified into public humiliation.
• Vardo's fortified mansion loomed on the outskirts of D.C., a sprawling compound of concrete bunkers disguised as luxury estate. High walls, armed guards at the gates, surveillance drones humming overhead. It was his fortress, built for wars both corporate and personal. He whisked her inside through a private entrance, slamming the vault-like door. The interior contrasted the exterior: opulent, with dark wood panels, leather furniture, and a master suite that screamed indulgence. A massive four-poster bed anchored the room, flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows tinted against prying eyes.