As Matthew stepped out of Kainne’s mansion, he was deep in thought. He began counting silently to himself.
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
Right on cue, a loud scream pierced the air. Inside the small porcelain bottle Matthew had given Kainne was indeed a remedy to heal his wounds, but what Matthew hadn’t mentioned was how painful it would be when applied.
…
The next morning, Montiria Hall was packed with journalists. Cameras in hand, DSLRs hanging around their necks, they were buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Rumors had spread that a major announcement would be made. Their eyes flicked between their watches and the stage, counting down to the official start time: eight o’clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
With the tick of the final second, the room grew tense. Just then, footsteps echoed as Fiorenna, dressed in a grand robe, led the way, with Matthew following closely behind in a sharp suit.
Fiorenna faced the flashing cameras, her calm smile unwavering. "Ladies and gentlemen, two nights ago, a treacherous rebellion took place in my residence!"
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