The Nation's President Picked Me Up From Prison-Chapter 30: Greg: She’s Not Home Yet

After squeezing every last drop of information out of Lionel, the picture becomes clearer, sharper, a little uglier around the edges.

One: we’ll need to infiltrate Renia for a covert rescue operation to retrieve Lionel’s sister.

Two: someone inside my own government is collaborating with Renia to force me out of office. Lionel doesn’t know who.

Convenient for them. Inconvenient for me.

Three: whatever his reasons, Lionel still broke his vow as a soldier. There’s only one direction betrayal takes you, and it’s never upward.

Four: Renia has no idea what my organization is truly building.

Good. The less they know, the more time my people have before someone tries to burn down the entire operation.

By the time I’m done with my appointments in Crown Palace, the sky has already given up its last light. My motorcade cuts through the quiet streets toward my private residence.

Stannis greets me at the door. "Good evening, sir."

"Where is she?" I ask, stepping inside without removing the last bit of coldness from my voice.

"Mrs. Brandt hasn’t returned, sir."

Only then do I realize I haven’t touched my personal phone all day. The work phone, perpetually glued to my chief of staff, is the only one that’s been active.

I scroll through Jean’s messages.

[After meeting with her agency, we are now at Mrs. Brandt’s apartment, sir.]

[We are at the cemetery. Mrs. Brandt wants to visit Mr. Hansley.]

[She’s meeting with her assistant and her hired lawyer, in Winter Hotel.]

[She’s eating at a private room of the hotel with her assistant after the lawyer left.]

The last update was twenty minutes ago. She won’t be home for dinner.

I type:

[Where does she plan to go to next?]

Jean replies instantly.

[Mrs. Brandt didn’t tell me, sir.]

I loosen my tie and head upstairs. My room doesn’t smell like my room anymore. Her perfume lingers in the air, faint but definitely one can’t miss, settling between the shadows. I thumb my phone screen, debating for a long second whether to ask her when she’ll be home.

I don’t. I toss the phone onto the bed.

* * *

I’m halfway through a Chapter of the book I’m reading when the door opens. It’s past nine. I’ve eaten dinner alone.

Elyn steps in quietly, as though Stannis warned her I might be asleep. She takes two steps before our eyes meet.

She’s dressed in a short skirt and a pink hoodie, her strawberry-blonde hair half tied, the rest falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Her pale blue eyes flick to me with caution, as if deciding whether this room is safe to breathe in.

"Good evening," she says, her voice sweet but tight at the edges.

I return my attention to the book. She’s too reactive to my stare so I’ll spare us both the discomfort.

"How did it go?" I ask, turning a page as she tiptoes toward the walk-in closet.

She pauses by the closet door, turning her head just enough for her ponytail to sway.

"You mean my meeting with my agency?"

When I look up, she’s smiling—small, pleased, the kind that tugs at the edges of her mouth before she can stop it.

"Yes," I say, holding her gaze.

"It went well. Got my contract terminated peacefully, and also got full rights on my unreleased album."

Of course it went well. JZ Entertainment made the smart choice, which is fortunate for them. They wouldn’t have enjoyed the outcome had they insisted on tightening their hold on her. Some companies excel at surviving disasters, it’s almost disappointing.

She slips into the bathroom, and the shower starts. When she steps out minutes later, her hair damp and her cheeks faintly pink from the heat, she’s changed into her usual pastel pajamas, cotton softness and colors that don’t belong anywhere near my black-and-gray wardrobe.

Yet the scent of her shower gel drifts across the room: floral, warm, decidedly feminine... and unexpectedly tolerable.

She sits at her vanity, which she’d had the servants move from her room into mine, and starts drying her hair with a blower. The noise fills the room, but her presence makes it less intrusive.

When she’s done, she begins her nightly routine, tapping creams onto her skin with gentle precision. I watch the way she concentrates, brows slightly knitted, lips parted.

"There’s a charity ball this weekend," I say once she finishes drying her hair. "I’ll need you to come with me." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

She pauses, fingertip under her eye where she was applying something.

"But people will see us..."

"That’s exactly the purpose."

Her confusion lingers, softening her expression. I add, "I will announce our marriage at that event."

The words settle between us. She goes quiet, processing, then after a second her eyes widen just a fraction.

When she finishes at the vanity, she walks over to her side of the bed and sits, tucking one leg under the other.

"What’s the theme?" she asks. "So I’ll know what to wear."

I close the book on my lap. "Black and silver."

She nods, repeating it under her breath like she’s memorizing an important spell. "Black and silver... okay. I think I have something. Maybe. Or I can just buy." Her voice trails into a mumble. "I’m a little nervous."

Her knee bounces once before she stops it, cheeks coloring with embarrassment. She’s bright, open, and so painfully easy to read that it should irritate me, but it doesn’t. Not even slightly.

I let my gaze travel over her hair, mismatched pajamas, a mind already spinning with worries she’ll later pretend she never had.

"You don’t have to worry about the dress," I say. "I’ll take care of it."

She blinks. "You’ll buy me a dress again?"

"Yes. I’ll have something sent here for you to try."

She smiles, the kind of smile that can brighten up a moonless night. "You don’t have to, but that would be wonderful. Thanks."

I look back at the book before she notices I’m still watching her. But her reflection catches in the window. Bright, unguarded, and entirely out of place in a room built for silence, and I find myself reading the same sentence three times without processing a word.