CHAPTER 107 — THE WEIGHT OF WHAT COMES AFTER
Power did not return all at once.
That was the first truth Elena understood as morning settled over the estate. Influence, once fractured, did not rush back like a tide. It seeped. Slowly. Cautiously. Testing the ground to see whether it would hold.
She woke later than she had in weeks, not from exhaustion but from a rare absence of urgency. No alarms. No emergency briefings waiting at the edge of consciousness. The fall had passed. The immediate danger had burned itself out.
What remained was heavier.
Choice.
Elena sat at the edge of the bed for a long moment, hands resting loosely in her lap, feeling the unfamiliar stillness inside herself. During the quiet war, clarity had been sharp, almost merciless. Every decision had been shaped by pressure. Every action had been necessary.
Now necessity had softened into responsibility.
