Chapter 255: Mrs. Rivers.
Mrs. Rivers rubbed the back of her hand across her cheek, brushing away a tear that had already dried into a faint salty track. She shifted forward on the sofa, opening her knees slightly, elbows planted on her thighs as she dropped her head into her hands. Her bare breasts hung forward with the motion, shoulders curved in exhaustion.
The warm, heavy air of the room clung to all of us, thick with the mingled scents of skin.
The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by Bagins’ ragged breathing—the raw, triumphant gasps of a man who had carried poison for weeks and had finally vomited it out.
[You did what needed to be done.]
Shut up for a second.
"How dare you." Bagins wasn’t finished. His voice cracked with fury. "You walk into a sacred house and do the one thing the president cannot forgive. Liars."
Mrs. Rivers’ jaw tightened, the muscles standing out along her neck. I couldn’t tell if it was Bagins’ audacity—shouting in her living room while naked and erect with rage—or the memory of me sitting in this exact seat days ago, lying to her grieving face.
"You’re going to pay for this," Bagins snarled. He paced along the edge of the room, his bare feet slapping against the floor, cock swinging heavily with each agitated step.
Mrs. Rivers leaned back slowly, her breasts shifting as she drew a deep breath, and fixed her eyes on me.
"Why?"
One word. My mind raced—she deserved an answer, and the wrong one would end everything right here.
"Because that’s what politics is," I said. "Bala sent me here and told me what to say. I followed the order."
"Liars," Bagins muttered behind us, still pacing like a caged animal. "Fucking liars."
"And because I thought you needed to hear something good about your son." I held her gaze without flinching. "You did need it. I watched you need it."
"You’re right." She nodded slowly, her expression hollow and tired.
Melissa sat perfectly still beside me, which meant she was somewhere else—working.
"I needed to hear something good about him," Mrs. Rivers whispered. "I still do. But not something manufactured. Not something a boy invented on his way through my door."
"I’m sorry."
"Look." Her voice stayed dangerously calm, worse than any shout. "The people you’re working for now were behind the Fallen City mission. They wanted the families to break from CGI and join them, and they decided the fastest way was to kill our children." The accusation settled over the room like smoke. "Do you honestly expect me to work with those people?"
The question hung between us.
"How did he die?" she asked, voice cracking.
I remembered every brutal second—the plain, the infected flooding in, Owen releasing charge.
The zombies wouldn’t have taken him. Owen did that.
"He died a hero," I said, repeating the same words I’d given her before.
"A lie." She exhaled slowly, eyes distant. "Another one."
The doors opened.
Her guards filed back in silently. I hadn’t seen any signal. They took positions around the room, forming a quiet ring of muscle and ability.
They’re going to kill us, Melissa said inside my head. And it isn’t because we failed. That order was given before we arrived. The outcome was never going to change it.
Can you reach her mind?
No. But I can reach most of the guards. A pause. I need to shake her hand first.
Then do it. She might still have something like mercy left in her.
Okay.
"This is insane," Mrs. Rivers said, looking slowly between us. Her voice was quiet, almost wondering. "I am sitting in my own house with the woman who had my son murdered for political leverage, and a boy who looked me in the eye and lied about him for reasons God alone understands."
"Let’s think about the walls," Melissa said softly. "That’s all that matters here. What’s actually good for the walls?"
"The walls?" Mrs. Rivers let out a genuine, bitter laugh. "There are no walls." Her voice rose sharply, control slipping for the first time since she’d entered the room. "The families *are* the walls. The families built them, the families hold them, and you people are breaking families apart while telling yourselves you’re saving something. You murder children to protect a structure."
The two robots glided silently through the doorway.
I stopped doubting Melissa’s assessment. The math in the room had turned deadly.
"Abram." Mrs. Rivers brought her voice back down, cold and final. "I trusted you. Which doesn’t matter anymore, because the two of you are going to be useful to me in a different way now. There’s nothing left to negotiate."
I scanned the room. Guard positions. The robots at the door. The precise arrangement of people who had clearly been briefed in advance.
She hadn’t said how we’d be useful. She didn’t have to. Two government officials executed publicly in front of every influential family in the walls would do more for her movement than any speech Mr. Kim could deliver.
She stood.
"I think we’re done."
Melissa rose smoothly and crossed the space toward her.
"Thank you for having us in your home." She extended her hand. "I’ll be available whenever you change your mind."
Mrs. Rivers looked at the offered hand. She hesitated. Then something in her—pride, perhaps—decided that refusing it would be beneath her. She took it.
"Okay." The forced smile returned, her grip firm. "Anytime."
[God Hand Punch initiating.]
[Charge flowing.]
[Attack and defense mechanisms ready.]
The system moved into position as I watched the two women hold the handshake, silently willing Melissa to find something—any thread of hesitation, any crack of doubt—that might get us out of this room alive.
Silence stretched.
Then Mrs. Rivers’ head burst.
Not cut. Not shot. It burst—like an overripe melon under sudden, crushing weight. Blood, bone, and brain sprayed outward in a violent red mist. Her body jerked once, hand still locked tight inside Melissa’s.
The room erupted into chaos.