Skyfall - Adele
1:03 âââ¬ââââ 4:46
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The White House â A Storm Brewing
Kamala is alone in the Oval Office, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. She hasn't slept properly in weeks, she never slept too much to begin with. But the last gew weeks it was awfully little and the headlines refuse to let her forget why.
"Madam President?"
Her chief of staff stands in the doorway, hesitating. That alone tells Kamala whatever is coming isnât good.
"What is it?" she asks, her voice sharp with exhaustion.
The folder lands on her desk. Thick. Confidential. The kind of thing that makes careersâor ends them.
Kamala doesnât open it right away. She just stares at it.
"Itâs from an anonymous source, but weâve confirmed the contents are legitimate, read thro it and get back to us asap" her chief of staff says carefully.
Kamala flips the folder open. And suddenly, she canât breathe.
Inside: pages upon pages of private emails, text messages, classified memosâevidence of conversations she never intended to be made public. Conversations about you. About her. About the two of you.
And at the bottom, printed in bold, damning letters: Leaked by the office of Senator Diana Reed.
Your Apartment
The first notification comes in while youâre brushing your hair. A text. Then another. And another.
Then the news alerts start.
You freeze. Your phone vibrates in your hand, the screen flashing with a breaking news banner:
EXCLUSIVE: PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN PRESIDENT HARRIS & FORMER LOVER LEAKEDâIMPLICATIONS UNCLEAR.
Your blood runs cold. You want to laugh, to cry. You didn't think it would get this far so fast.
You barely have time to process before the knock comes at your door. Hard. Urgent.
You already know who it is before you open it.
"What the fuck did you do?" you snap before Diana even steps inside.
Diana looks completely unbothered, slipping past you like she owns the place. "Good morning to you too, darling."
"Donât." Your voice shakes. "Tell me this isnât what I think it is."
Diana sighs dramatically, tossing her coat over a chair. "Itâs politics, sweetheart. You didnât really think we were just playing dress-up, did you?"
"You leaked her emails," you say, barely above a whisper. "Personal ones."
"Correction: we did," Diana replies smoothly. "You - and your phone - were the source of half of that information, whether you meant to be or not."
The room spins. No. No, no, no.
"I never told you anythingâ"
Diana arches a perfectly manicured brow. "Oh, but you did. You just werenât paying attention."
And suddenly, it all makes sense. Every late-night conversation. Every seemingly innocent question. Every time Diana had asked about Kamalaâher habits, her weaknesses, the little details you thought were insignificant.
You handed her the ammunition. And she pulled the trigger.
"You used me," you whisper, throat tightening. Of course she used you. You knew from the absolute beggining. You were using each other. But this still seemed like too much for some reason.
Diana steps closer, her voice turning sugar-sweet. "Oh, darling. Donât be naive. You used me just as much. You wanted her to feel it, didnât you? To see you with me, to hurt the way you hurt? And you- we succeeded."
Your breath hitches.
Diana smiles, slow and cruel. "I just finished the job."
The White House
Doug has never seen Kamala like this.
The folder is still open on her desk, but now half the contents are scattered across the room, some pages crumpled where her hands have clenched too tight.
"Iâll bury her," Kamala says, her voice cold, dangerous.
Doug exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kamalaâ"
"She destroyed everything, Doug." Kamala looks up, and for the first time in all the years heâs known her, thereâs rage in her eyes. "I donât care what it takes. I donât care what it costs. I will end her."
Doug doesnât doubt it.
But what he does doubt is whether she means Diana.
Or you.