The president’s living room had been transford.
Cables trailed like vines across the polished marble floor, caras mounted on tripods angled precisely toward the elegant couch set in the center. Bright box lights glared from every corner, bathing the space in sterile white brilliance that erased shadows. A large banner bearing the insignia of the National dia Network stood near the wall, flanked by two smaller flags.
Three sound technicians moved about quietly, adjusting microphones and earpieces, while a pair of cara operators tested angles and checked focus.
Athena sat where they told her to—the left side of the sofa, facing the cara head-on. The sll of warm tal from the equipnt mingled with the faint scent of furniture polish and disinfectant still lingering from earlier. She tugged at the sleeve of her blazer, trying to smooth out invisible creases, though her mind was far from calm.
"Doctor Athena?" a soft voice called.
She looked up. The interviewer was already making her way across the room—tall, graceful, blonde hair falling in smooth waves to her shoulders. Her makeup was perfectly balanced, cara-ready, and her fitted white blazer over a lavender blouse gave her the polished charm of a woman who lived for television.
She extended a manicured hand, smiling warmly.
"Cynthia Rowe, National dia Network," she introduced herself. "It’s an honor to et you, Doctor. Truly."
Athena returned the handshake with a polite smile. "The honor’s mutual, Ms. Rowe."
Cynthia laughed softly, settling across from her. "Please, call Cynthia. My viewers find ’Ms. Rowe’ far too formal."
She had the kind of voice that could make even the worst news sound almost comforting—calm, lodic, persuasive. Athena could see why she was one of the country’s top field anchors. Her eyes were intelligent, bright with curiosity, and as she adjusted her mic, Athena caught a whiff of faint vanilla perfu.
Cynthia looked into the nearest cara, her professional smile sharpening into the one ant for millions.
"We’re live in five," one of the crew called, raising his fingers in countdown.
Athena felt her pulse quicken. Her thoughts scattered briefly—to her engagent that was supposed to happen in just a few hours, to the ring she’d left in its box, to the president lying sedated upstairs, and the virus creeping unseen through the city.
Who was spreading it still? And why the president’s house, of all places? Whoever they were, they had dared too much.
"Three... two... one..."
The red light blinked on.
Cynthia’s voice turned smooth as silk. "Good afternoon, viewers. Today, we have with us the remarkable woman whose brilliance and courage have changed the trajectory of our country’s battle with the Grey Virus—Dr. Athena Caddels."
Applause erupted from the few crew mbers allowed inside, polite and brief. Athena managed a modest nod.
"Dr. Athena," Cynthia began, turning toward her with an easy smile, "thank you for joining us on such short notice. I imagine your schedule must be a whirlwind these days."
Athena forced a small chuckle. "That would be accurate, yes. But I’m glad to be here."
"And how are you doing personally?" Cynthia asked, leaning slightly forward. "With everything going on—the pressure, the workload, the public expectations?"
Athena exhaled softly. "It’s been... intense," she admitted. "But I’ve learned that focus is the only way through. The virus doesn’t wait, so neither can we."
Cynthia’s smile widened. "Spoken like a true leader. Now, if I may jump right in—the Grey Virus has shaken this country to its core. Thousands infected, hospitals overwheld. And yet, you were instruntal in developing the cure for the first wave. How did you do it? What was that journey like?"
Athena’s expression softened. "It wasn’t one person’s effort. I was fortunate to work with an extraordinary team of researchers and field doctors. It was long days, longer nights, and a lot of failures before success. But when the first patient opened her eyes again, we knew we’d found sothing that worked."
She chose her words carefully—no nas, no ntion of the internal betrayals, or Fiona’s sacrifice. So truths were still too dangerous to speak aloud.
"And the second strain?" Cynthia asked quickly. "This new mutation that’s been spreading—how serious is it? People are frightened."
Athena clasped her hands, steady and calm. "Understandably so. But I want to reassure the public that while this strain behaves differently, we’ve developed both a vaccine and a containnt strategy. Our goal isn’t just to cure, but to prevent further outbreaks. The situation is under control."
The interviewer’s eyes widened. "So, you’re saying—there’s already a cure?"
"Yes," Athena said with quiet confidence. "We’ve tested it successfully. Patients are responding well. It’s only a matter of distribution now."
For a heartbeat, Cynthia looked stunned—then her composure cracked. Her face broke into an unfiltered grin, and she clasped Athena’s hands impulsively. "Doctor! That’s incredible! You’ve just given the entire nation hope!"
The caraman made a frantic hand signal to remind her it was still live, but she laughed anyway, eyes bright with tears. "Ladies and gentlen," she said, turning to the cara, "you heard it here first—the cure exists, and the country can finally breathe again!"
Athena smiled faintly, shaking her head. "We’re not out of the woods yet, but yes — there’s reason to hope."
Cynthia composed herself, cheeks flushed with embarrassnt, though the joy never left her face. "Forgive ... I let my excitent run away there. But truly, Doctor, thank you. On behalf of the nation, thank you."
Athena dipped her head modestly. "I only did what had to be done."
The interviewer’s voice softened. "Before we let you go—I must ask, though off the topic of dicine. Congratulations on your engagent."
Was it really? The engagent had been cancelled, then rescheduled for today, but at this point... what did it matter?
She simply smiled though and nodded. "Thank you."
Cynthia bead, clearly pleased. "A woman who saves lives and still finds ti for love... truly inspiring."
The producer signaled the end. "And that’s a wrap in five, four, three..."
Cynthia turned to the cara one last ti, her tone smooth again. "This has been Cynthia Rowe, live with Dr. Athena Caddels—the beacon of light in these trying tis. Stay hopeful, stay strong."
The red light blinked off. Applause followed again, scattered but genuine.
"Cut," soone called. "We’re clear."
Before Athena could rise, Cynthia jumped up and surprised her with a warm hug. Athena stiffened, blinking at the sudden contact.
"Thank you, Doctor," Cynthia laughed, pulling back. "You’re more than a scientist—you’re a role model. My daughter adores you."
Athena smiled, a little dazed. "That’s kind of her."
The crew began breaking down equipnt—unplugging cables, folding tripods, rolling the banners. The room slowly reverted to its calm, presidential elegance. Athena sat back for a mont, watching them work, the rush of the interview still lingering like a pulse beneath her skin.
She reached for her phone, unlocked it, and turned off the audio recorder she had running the entire ti. A small green light winked out. The file saved automatically, and with a few taps, she sent it to the dia contact at KN Newspapers. To "move the ministry forward."
A knock ca at the door.
Aiden entered, eyes locating her instantly. "So," he said, leaning against the doorway, "how’d it go?"
Athena gave a short snort. "You tell . You were probably watching it live."
He chuckled. "I was. You did well. Looked very presidential yourself."
"Presidential?" she raised a brow. "That’s not funny."
"Actually," he said with a teasing grin, "it is. Especially that little stain on your tooth the cara kept catching."
Her hand flew to her mouth instantly, eyes wide. "What stain—?"
Then she saw the gleam of laughter in his eyes.
"Aiden!" she groaned, throwing a cushion at him. He ducked easily, laughing outright this ti.
"You should’ve seen your face," he managed, still grinning.
She shook her head, unable to suppress a smile, understanding his role now to make her worry less. "You’re impossible."
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