SCENE: OVAL OFFICE – NIGHT


    The clock reads 11:30 PM. Ronald Jinger pours himself another glass of Italian grappa, stares at it for a moment, then downs it in one go. The room is silent. Too silent.


    Then, without warning, the doors open.


    Zoryn strides in, unannounced. Fiery red hair. Eyes like ancient emeralds. Her black gown glides across the floor like a living shadow.


    Jinger stiffens, his fists clenching on the desk.


    Jinger: "Who the hell are you?"


    A faint smile flickers on Zoryn’s lips.


    Zoryn: "Many have tried to name me. None have succeeded."


    Jinger slams a fist on the table.


    Jinger: "Cut the crap. I don’t like games. You walked in here like you own the place. That’s bold. Very bold. And I don’t like bold when it’s not on my terms."


    Zoryn tilts her head slightly, as if observing a petulant child.


    Zoryn: "You misunderstand. I do not own this place. But I have always been here, in the halls of every great empire. Watching. Listening."


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    A chill runs down Jinger’s spine.


    Jinger: "You''re talking in riddles. I don’t do riddles. I do facts. So here’s a fact: if you don’t tell me why you’re here, you’re walking out of this place in cuffs."


    Zoryn smiles, a smile with no warmth.


    Zoryn: "You have already felt it, haven’t you? The weight. The inevitability."


    Jinger remains silent. That smile bothers him. It makes him feel small.


    Zoryn: "Empires rise, Ronald. And empires fall. It is the way of things."


    Jinger lets out a harsh, forced laugh.


    Jinger: "Oh, please. I’ve heard this garbage before. The media, the opposition, the weak—they all say the same thing. But guess what? I win. I always win."


    Zoryn takes a single step forward. The air seems heavier.


    Zoryn: "Even kings have their sunsets."


    Jinger opens his mouth to retort, but something stops him. A strange tightness in his throat.


    Zoryn: "You should consider yourself fortunate. I could take you now, in this very moment, as history has done with so many before you. And yet... I am generous."


    Jinger narrows his eyes.


    Jinger: "Generous? You think I should thank you?"


    Zoryn: "No. I think you should use the time I grant you wisely. Every step you take, every word you speak, I will be watching. And when your time ends, I will be the one to accompany you."


    She steps closer. Now, she is standing right before him.


    Zoryn: "I will be here until your days on this planet are over. And that day is soon, Ronald."


    Jinger swallows hard but says nothing.


    ---


    SCENE: THE WHITE HOUSE – THE NEXT MORNING


    Jinger walks through the hallway, the morning light filtering through the windows. His expression is the same as always. A man of confidence, determination, invincibility.


    And yet, those who know him well notice something. Something subtle, almost imperceptible.


    The First Lady watches him as he settles at the breakfast table.


    First Lady: "You didn’t sleep well."


    Jinger rubs a hand over his face, then flashes her a sharp smile.


    Jinger: "Nonsense. I sleep like a baby. The best sleep. Incredible sleep."


    The First Lady notices the slight tremor in his fingers as he picks up his cup.


    First Lady: "And who’s the woman?"


    Jinger stiffens just a fraction. A micro-movement, but she catches it.


    First Lady: "Ronald?"


    Jinger lowers his cup, casting her a distracted glance. Then, with the same ever-present smirk, he replies:


    Jinger: "Just someone who thinks they know how the world works."


    But his gaze shifts, just for an instant, toward the end of the hallway.


    Where Zoryn stands, motionless. Watching him.


    She is no longer smiling.


    The spoon in his cup clinks softly.