The air in D.C. crackled with tension, not just from the summer humidity but from the undercurrents of scandal rippling through the administration. Nia's days blurred into a haze of drafting denials for the press office, her nights claimed by Vardo's summons. The Jenkins leak had been contained—for now—but Vardo's empire pressed on, his latest venture a high-stakes arms shipment to a volatile Middle Eastern ally. The deal promised billions in contracts, bolstering Vince's foreign policy facade while lining Vardo's pockets. But cracks appeared: intercepted communications suggested the ally's regime was wavering, spooked by U.S. intelligence leaks hinting at oversight scrutiny.
Vardo called her into it mid-week, his text terse: Safe house. 10 PM. Bring your laptop. Nia arrived at the nondes
