The president’s living room was everything one would expect of a man who led a nation. Modern. Sleek. Expansive. Its wide glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, letting in streams of afternoon light that glinted off polished marble floors.
White columns framed the room like sentinels, and the chandelier above — a cascade of crystal droplets — shimmered faintly under the filtered sun. Every surface gleamed. Every piece of furniture seemed strategically placed, not just for comfort, but for power.
The grand piano by the corner spoke of sophistication even, while the portraits of past leaders adorning the walls whispered of legacy.
To Athena, stepping into the room felt like entering the heart of authority itself. Even now, with the faint hum of medical equipment echoing down the hallway, and the sharp scent of disinfectant lingering in the air, the room exuded control. The faint fragrance of lemon polish from the wooden desk mingled with the sterility of antiseptic — a clash between home and hospital.
The chief security officer, Valentine, a broad-shouldered man in his fifties with silver streaking his hair, stood by the large oak table, flipping through papers. He looked relieved when Athena and Aiden entered.
Straightening, he gave a short bow of respect. "Dr. Athena," he greeted. "We’ve received confirmation. The press team you called for is on their way. Less than an hour out."
Athena nodded, glancing at her watch. Barely noon. "Good," she said softly. "We’ll be ready."
The officer stepped forward, handing her a tablet. "The temperature readings, as you requested. Of the president, his family, and all household staff. The rest of the staff have been moved to the secondary housing near the main gate — isolated and under watch."
She took the tablet, scrolling through the numbers carefully. A faint furrow creased her brow. So far, none of the staff showed symptoms. Their temperatures were normal, respiration steady. That ruled out general exposure — at least for now. Whoever had infected the president and his family must have done it recently. Too recently.
Her gaze hardened slightly. "This was done either last night," she murmured, "or early this morning." The source of this content ɪs novｅlfire.net
Aiden leaned closer, reading over her shoulder. "Someone had access to them while they slept," he said grimly.
Athena nodded, a quiet chill racing down her spine. That meant the mole was still close — possibly inside this very house. She lifted her head slowly, scanning the guards. They all stood straight, professional, eyes alert. Every one of them looked trustworthy. But trust had become a dangerous luxury lately.
Her fingers tightened around the tablet. "We can’t rule anyone out," she said quietly. "If the infiltrator’s this close, they’ll try again."
The chief officer hesitated. "We’ve reviewed the surveillance tapes from the last twenty-four hours, ma’am, but..."
"But?" Athena’s tone was calm, though the air around her felt charged.
"But there’s a ten-minute blackout in the east corridor — the one that leads to the family quarters. The footage cut off just before dawn."
Aiden exhaled sharply. "That’s not a coincidence."
No, Athena thought, it wasn’t. Her mind worked fast, pulling threads of possibility together. The blackout could have been engineered remotely. Someone who knew the security grid. Someone on the inside. And now the president’s life — and that of his family — rested squarely on her shoulders.
She drew a long, steadying breath and forced herself to focus. "Thank you for the report," she said absently, handing back the tablet. "Keep monitoring. Double the guard rotation. And no one — I mean no one — enters that room without my clearance."
She turned to Aiden, her mind still running. "Let’s discuss next steps."
They moved toward one of the guest rooms down the hall — quiet, dimly lit, with cream walls and neatly folded linens on the bed. Athena shut the door behind them, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Aiden was already pacing. "We’re out of time if the mole’s still active. You know what this means... Infecting the president? That’s national chaos waiting to happen."
Athena nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We’ll call in Nimbus," she said firmly. "They’ve handled bio-crisis operations before. I’ll authorize it under immediate containment protocol."
"I’ll take care of it," Aiden said, already pulling out his phone.
She gave a short nod, her eyes weary but determined. "Good. And Aiden... be careful with the transmission lines. We don’t know if they’re monitoring communications yet."
He met her eyes. "I always am."
When he left the room, silence settled. Athena leaned back, running her hands through her hair, the events of the day weighing on her.
She rose and moved to the adjoining bathroom, restless. A hot shower hissed to life, steam fogging the mirror. She peeled off the protective suit, watching the water swirl gray with traces of disinfectant powder. The warmth was a small mercy. As the water slid over her skin, washing away the fatigue, she tried to empty her thoughts. But they refused to leave her alone.
After the bath, she tied a robe around herself and returned to the bedroom. The air was cool and quiet. On the desk, a small console displayed the feed from the micro-cameras she had installed earlier — in the president’s room, the hallway, and even the back entrance.
They were near invisible to sensors, a new creation from her own company, built in conjunction with the Nimbus operation.
So far, all was calm. The president was asleep. She let out a soft sigh of relief.
Her phone buzzed. Aiden’s message: Nimbus team deploying within the hour.
Good. That gave her some breathing space. A few of them would act as nurses where needed.
She sat down on the bed, towel-drying her hair, when she realized she had nothing decent to wear for the upcoming press briefing. Her clothes from the hospital were likely contaminated, and the robe she wore now definitely wouldn’t do. She reached for her phone to make an online order — then came the knock.
She rose quickly and opened the door. Aiden stood there, wearing neat clothes, holding a medium-sized shopping bag.
Even before she looked inside, Athena knew what it was. Clothes. Fresh ones.
Her lips curved into a tired smile. "You read my mind again."
He shrugged, a faint grin touching his face. "I ordered earlier, while you were busy with the treatments. Figured you’d need them before the cameras arrive."
She took the bag, eyes glinting with gratitude. "You really are a lifesaver."
"I try," he said amicably. "Rest a little. The press will be here soon. I’ll handle the Nimbus linkup from my room."
He nodded and turned down the corridor, his footsteps fading softly.
Athena closed the door, setting the bag on the chair. Inside were two neatly folded outfits — a white blouse, tailored navy slacks, and a dark blazer — simple, formal, yet elegant enough for a public appearance. Alongside them, a pair of low-heeled shoes.
She smiled to herself, touched by the gesture. Maybe she will ask the President to reward her good friend instead.
"As if..." She laughed, imagining Aiden’s face at such a request.