The city woke in chaos. Morning news anchors were dissecting Sarah Cruz's face, frame by frame, as though truth could be found in her silence. Every network, every paper, every whisper in the halls of power now carried her name, spoken with venom and disbelief.
"The mastermind behind the leaks," the headlines declared."The woman who brought down her own congressman."
Sarah watched it all from her apartment window, her coffee untouched, her reflection barely visible against the glass. Below, the city moved without her. People rushing to work, children laughing, horns blaring, life unbothered by the ruin of a woman.
Her phone rang. It had been ringing all morning. Ralph's name flashed on the screen. She didn't answer.
Not yet.
She had already written the letter. It sat on her desk, a single page folded neatly beside her ID and keycard. The official seal of Congress embossed at the top looked cold, lifeless, like everything else that once meant purpose.
She exhaled, steadying herself. Every movement was deliberate. Every breath was measured. This wasn't surrender. It was escape.
Ralph's POV
He stormed into the press office, his aides trailing behind like nervous shadows. "Who authorized this statement?" he barked, slamming a newspaper onto the table. Sarah's name glared up at him from the front page, "Aide Turned Insider: Cruz Tied to Leaked Documents."
No one answered. The air was thick with fear.
Emil stood by the glass wall, arms crossed, pretending to be shocked. "Sir, the Office of Ethics has already received a complaint. The committee wants to open an inquiry."
Ralph's fists clenched. "This is a setup. You know it."
Emil gave a slow, practiced sigh. "I know you're upset. But perception matters. Right now, she looks..."
"Don't finish that," Ralph said sharply. "Not in my presence."
He turned away, pulse hammering. The chaos around him blurred into background noise. Every journalist he'd ever trusted had turned cold. Every ally suddenly distant. The machine was moving, and it was hungry.
And at the center of its feast, Sarah Cruz.
Sarah's POV
She arrived at the Congress building quietly, dressed in a plain gray suit. The corridors that once echoed with her footsteps now felt foreign, haunted. Colleagues avoided her gaze. Some whispered. Others simply pretended not to see her.
She walked straight to Ralph's office, letter in hand.
He was already there, waiting, jaw tight, sleeves rolled up, papers scattered across the desk like battlefield debris.
"Sarah," he said softly. "Don't do this."
She didn't look at him right away. She set the letter down, her voice calm, steady. "It's done. I'm taking responsibility."
"For something you didn't do?"
Her eyes met his. "It doesn't matter. If I stay, they'll come for you next. They already are."
He moved around the desk, standing too close, the weight of everything between them pressing into the silence. "You think walking away will save me?"
"No," she whispered. "It will save you from choosing."
He froze, and in that stillness, she saw it. The truth he had never spoken. The love he had buried beneath duty and politics. The longing he hid behind strategy and speeches.
If he said it now, she thought, I would stay.
But he didn't.
He reached for her letter instead, fingers brushing hers briefly, an accidental touch that burned like confession. "You don't deserve this."
"No one in this city gets what they deserve," she said. "Only what they can survive."
She turned to leave. He took one step after her, then stopped. Always stopping, when it mattered most.
Ralph's POV
He watched her go, heart pounding, mind screaming. Every instinct told him to follow, to drag her back, to fight. But the cameras were already watching. Every hallway, every lens, every enemy waiting for a sign of weakness.
So he stayed behind the desk, a soldier obeying invisible orders, and read her letter instead.
"To the Office of the Speaker,
Effective immediately, I resign as Communications Strategist to Congressman Ralph Del Mar.
My service has always been to the truth, and to the people we vowed to protect. If my name must burn for that truth to live, so be it.
Respectfully,Sarah Cruz."
He closed his eyes, her handwriting searing into his mind like an oath.
Outside, reporters gathered. Flashbulbs cracked the morning light. The story had already taken shape, Ralph Del Mar's trusted aide resigns amid scandal.
He wanted to shout. To tell them she was innocent. That she was the only one who never betrayed him. But politics had rules, and truth had no audience here.
So he played his part. The stoic leader. The composed congressman. The man who let her fall to save himself.
Sarah's POV
The elevator doors closed. She felt the air tighten. The ride down was long, suffocating. Every floor she passed felt like a chapter erasing itself, every meeting, every strategy, every unspoken moment with Ralph now reduced to rumor.
When she reached the lobby, flashes exploded in her face.
"Miss Cruz! Is it true you leaked the files?""Were you and Congressman Del Mar involved romantically?""Do you plan to testify before the ethics committee?"
She didn't answer. The silence was her armor. Her only defense left.
The car waiting outside was unmarked, one of the few privileges she hadn't yet lost. As she stepped inside, her hands trembled for the first time. Not from fear, but from the ache of everything unspoken.
The driver asked softly, "Where to, ma'am?"
She hesitated. "Just drive."
And the city swallowed her whole.
Ralph's POV
By noon, his office was a war zone. Calls from reporters, messages from allies, whispers of a pending investigation. He ignored them all, staring at the empty chair across from his desk.
It was strange, how quiet it felt without her.
He reached for his phone again, typing a message he knew he shouldn't send.
You didn't have to protect me.
He deleted it. Typed again.
Where are you?
Deleted.
The third time, he simply wrote:
Thank you.
And hit send.
He waited, watching the screen. But no reply came.
Outside, the noise grew louder. The storm was gathering again, only this time, he was the one exposed. Without her, his armor had cracks. Without her, his principles sounded lonely.
He looked out the window, at the skyline they once conquered together, a kingdom built on speeches and trust.
He whispered her name, not as a plea, but as a vow. "I'll fix this, Sarah."
He didn't know yet how deep the betrayal ran, how far Emil's poison had spread. He only knew that losing her felt like losing the one clean truth he had left.
That night, in a quiet corner of the capital, a man handed a sealed envelope to a Villaflor aide. Inside were photos, Sarah, leaving the Congress building, alone. A shadow trailed behind her.
A message attached:
Phase two complete. She's off the board.
And from somewhere far above, where power was currency and loyalty was disposable, Speaker Damian Villaflor smiled.
"Good," he said. "Now let's see how the congressman survives without his shadow."