Adeline sat down on the cold steel railing, the salty sea breeze brushing strands of her hair across her face. Her fingers tapped at the screen of her phone, scrolling until she stopped at Tess’s name. She hesitated, then clicked. Her breath hitched.

Missed calls. Messages.
And then—one she hadn’t noticed.

“Be safe, Madam President.”

Her heart swelled, and a soft, involuntary smile tugged at her lips. That simple message carried so much weight, slicing clean through the storm of betrayal and duty. Her thumb hovered over the message as she stared out at the waves before glancing sideways at Martin.

“Do you think it would be inappropriate of me to rush to her side?” she asked quietly, eyes still on the ocean.

Martin leaned on the rail beside her, his face calm and thoughtful. “We never heard her reasons behind what she did,” he said. “And... it does invade her privacy that we know about her relationship with him. That aside—I like Miss Wells, Madam President. But you... liking anyone will always be a stressful situation.”

Adeline gave a dry chuckle, nodding as her eyes flickered with quiet frustration.

“I wish life wasn’t so complicated,” she murmured. “But I do have the right to demand an explanation—for her not showing up. She promised me.”

Martin tilted his head, “Then ask her. But this time... not as Madam President.”

Adeline looked down at her phone again, thumb lingering over the call button. The ship swayed gently beneath her as her inner storm settled into something more certain.

*

The black car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the estate’s grand entrance. The sun had already dipped beyond the hills, leaving behind a cool, lavender twilight that wrapped around the building like a shawl of silence.

Adeline stepped out slowly, the fatigue of leadership heavy on her shoulders. Her military blazer had been discarded in the backseat of the car. Her boots thudded against the marble floors as she walked, the guards straightening and saluting her, but she barely acknowledged them.

Inside her private quarters, everything was still. Quiet. The weight of the day—the ocean standoff, the speeches, the sight of Tess’s message—it all pressed on her like wet sand.

She entered her bathroom without a word, pulling her hair loose as she walked. The mirror caught her reflection—eyes rimmed red with exhaustion, body still held rigid in poise. Her fingers undid the buttons of her shirt with tired grace.

Soon, she slid into the hot water of her bath, sinking deep until only her face remained above the surface. The scent of eucalyptus clung faintly in the air. Her eyes drifted closed, and for a few long minutes, she let the silence hold her.

By the time she returned to her bedroom, her limbs were heavy. She dropped the towel somewhere along the way, intending to dress, but never made it past the edge of the bed. The softness of the mattress pulled her down, and before she could reach for anything—pajamas, a robe, even a blanket—she was already asleep.

Some time later, Martin entered quietly, a file in his hand. He stopped in the doorway, surprised at the sight of her—hair still damp, body bare beneath the soft lighting, her breathing deep and peaceful. The president, for all her strength, looked so heartbreakingly human like this.

With a soft sigh, Martin walked over and pulled the blanket gently over her, tucking it just enough to shield her from the chill. He hesitated a moment, smoothing a strand of hair from her cheek.

“Sleep well, Madam President,” he murmured, voice laced with quiet affection and concern. He turned off the bedside light, closed the file, and stepped out of the room.

Outside, the estate was still.

But the night wasn’t over yet.

Front Foyer…

Martin’s phone buzzed in his pocket just as he finished settling a report on the hallway table. He pulled it out and smiled faintly at the name glowing on the screen.

Caleb: “You didn’t even stay behind to show me some love.”

Martin shook his head fondly. They’d been together nearly ten years, a quiet and steady love, one sustained by whispered calls at midnight and passing glances during joint missions. No engagement. No ceremony. Just duty and distance. Always distance.

Martin: “Next time, how about you take off and come stay with me?”

He had barely slipped the phone back into his pocket when Mr. Richards, the longtime butler, approached with his usual tact and formality, though his words made Martin’s blood go cold.

“There’s a Miss Tess Wells at the gate. She’s asking for you about… the money you owe her?”

Martin blinked. “What?”

“She insisted. Said it was urgent.”

Martin’s heart dropped. Tess, here? Now? Five states away from where she’s supposed to be?

He didn’t waste another word. His shoes echoed down the corridor as he made his way to the estate’s entrance, mind racing. This was dangerous. She shouldn’t be here—not when the president was asleep upstairs, vulnerable, and especially not when the press could be lurking around the estate like wolves.

*

Front Courtyard–Gates…

Tess stood outside the tall iron gates, arms folded, clearly irritated — but her expression faltered when she saw Martin approach at full speed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed as he stepped out past the guard post. “You should be home.”

Tess, dressed in casual jeans and a light sweater, raised an eyebrow. “Nice to see you too, Martin.”

He looked around warily. “Do you have any idea how bad this looks? You’re five states away from where you’re supposed to be. You’re standing outside the President’s estate. Do you want people asking questions?”

“I didn’t come to cause problems,” she replied, voice low. “I just… needed to talk. To you. To someone who knows what’s going on.”

Martin rubbed his face, stress bleeding into every gesture. “You couldn’t have called?”

“I did. You ignored them all.”

“…Fair.” He exhaled. “Alright. Come inside. Through the servant’s corridor. And keep your head down.”

The door clicked shut behind them as Martin led Tess into his room—a warm, book-lined space tucked in the east wing. The estate was quiet, bathed in the hush of night, but a few servants and guards had caught sight of her arrival. Whispers would travel—they always did.

Tess sank onto the edge of Martin’s bed, running a hand through her hair as she looked around. “I took a week off,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “I messed things up with Adeline.”

Martin leaned against the dresser, then eventually moved to sit beside her with a sigh. “Yeah… she arranged pizza and flowers, you know. She was hoping the two of you could eat together over a video call.”

Tess’s shoulders sagged. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have stayed out that late.”

Martin gave her a careful look. “She called, Tess. More than once. And you didn’t answer. Did something happen in your family?”

Tess shook her head. “No… nothing serious happened. I just got caught up in something else.”

Martin narrowed his eyes slightly. “What kind of ‘something else’?”

Tess didn’t answer right away. She looked away, hands twisting in her lap. “It was stupid. I shouldn’t have let it drag me away. But when I finally realised what I’d done, it felt like it was already too late.”

Martin frowned, still confused. “So why come here now? Why not wait for Adeline to reach out first? Give her space.”

Tess turned to him sharply, desperation flickering in her eyes. “Because how else am I supposed to win her over if I wait around? Someone might snatch her from me.”

Martin blinked. Then chuckled. “These women…” he muttered under his breath with a shake of his head. “Really brave.”

Tess raised an eyebrow. “You’re not wrong.”

He looked over at her with a soft, almost brotherly sigh. “Tess, you know she’s not like most women. She doesn’t open up easily. You losing her trust… that’s a mountain to climb. But the fact that you’re here, even after everything—maybe it says something.”

“Do I have a chance?”

Martin stood and smoothed down his shirt. “I don’t know. But if you keep showing up like this, despite all the politics and pride and press… maybe you do.”

Tess looked up at Martin from where she sat on the bed, her voice low and hesitant.
“What are you going to say when people ask who I am?”

Martin paused, the question weighing heavier than it should have. She had a point — people would ask. This was the Presidential Estate, not some countryside inn. Every visitor was someone, and every unknown face was a question waiting to spread like wildfire.

He rubbed his chin in thought, then slowly smiled.
“A friend from kindergarten?” he offered. “I doubt anyone would dig that far back. And if they do, I’ll just say you moved overseas after third grade.”

Tess chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension in her shoulders.
“Then I’ll trouble you, Mr. Secretary.”

Martin rolled his eyes and stood, walking over to grab a spare blanket from the wardrobe.
“Guess you’re sleeping in my bed then,” he muttered. “Better not snore, or I’ll file a complaint in the morning.”

Tess laughed softly as she laid back on the bed, her voice slightly muffled by the pillow.
“No promises. But hey… thank you, Martin.”

He looked at her, his expression softening.
“Don’t thank me yet. We haven’t dealt with the other storm that’s about to walk in here wearing heels and power.”

They both fell silent, the weight of Adeline’s name hanging in the air.