She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 832

The condemnation and cyber-attacks were relentless. The cybersecurity team worked around the clock, desperately trying to scrub the internet, but every time they took a site down, a coalition of elite hackers brought it right back up.

The atmosphere in the security department was suffocating. People were quitting on the spot. If their resignations weren't accepted, they simply walked out. If they kept working at this pace, they were going to drop dead.

As the defensive lines crumbled one by one, President Harding's initial composure was completely shattered by the morning of the tenth day.

He stood behind the bulletproof glass of the Oval Office, staring down at the heavily locked-down plaza below.

Right in front of his eyes, a man disguised in a maintenance uniform attempting to access the west wing's ventilation shaft had his skull blown open by a sniper rifle from at least eight hundred yards away.

Blood and gray matter splattered across the pavement in the pale morning light, blooming like an ugly, violent flower. Before the body could even hit the ground, Secret Service agents disguised as landscapers dragged him away. A high-pressure water hose followed instantly. Within minutes, the area was spotless, as if nothing had happened.

This was the eighth incident in just a few days.

They all died in different ways—poisoning, car accidents, falling debris, and long-range assassinations.

The attackers had one clear objective: slaughter anyone loyal to Harding who tried to enter or leave the premises for sensitive operations.

Even when Harding attempted to leave the grounds, the decoy motorcade carrying his body double made it less than five hundred yards before it was obliterated by a bomb.

It had reached a point where anyone associated with him who stepped outside the palace gates was guaranteed to die.

As a result, despite his immense political power, no one was willing to risk their lives for him anymore.

The Presidential Palace, the ultimate symbol of the nation's authority, had been reduced to the world's most luxurious prison.

And the warden was the wife of the man he had personally buried.

"She's insane... she's actually insane!" Harding's deputy and security advisor, Kepler Johnson, stammered. His forehead was wrapped in thick gauze, a parting gift from a remote-controlled car bomb that had flipped his SUV the day before.

His voice trembled with sheer terror. "The X Arms Syndicate has severed at least three of our overseas intelligence lines. SaintHealer's bounty has every international mercenary and hitman foaming at the mouth! And domestically, the Lonsdales and all those high-profile celebrities... they aren't just applying pressure. They're dismantling your entire administration!"

President Harding stood with his back to Kepler, silent. His face was deathly pale. On the digital monitor in front of him, his real-time approval ratings were plummeting off a cliff, the glaring red warning line burning his eyes.

His support had broken through the lowest point in the history of his presidency, and it was still dropping.

Harding couldn't utter a single word. He was drowning in regret, but he was the one who had served Lucian up on a silver platter.

"If you don't help me, I'll have no choice but to tell her the truth! If I just hand him back to Loyce, regardless of his condition, she'll at least call off this massacre!"

Horace went silent for a moment before replying, "I'll handle it."

Given the terrifying reach of Stellar Trust, Harding still held out a shred of hope.

Horace did utilize his vast connections to mitigate the damage. After all, countless billionaires had their assets tied up in his trust. Many prominent figures suddenly stopped advocating for Lucian, and the public outcry seemed to quiet down slightly. But the core danger hadn't faded at all.

Even when Horace tried to throw money at the dark web to buy Harding a reprieve, it failed miserably. The sheer value of X's weaponry and SaintHealer's golden lifeline far exceeded anything money could buy. The hits remained active.

Harding remained trapped in the Presidential Palace, too terrified to take a single step outside.

Days dragged on. The undercurrents of the war raged in the shadows. Though Loyce didn't know exactly where Lucian was hidden, she knew he was alive, which eased the suffocating panic in her chest.

Until one morning at breakfast, as the family gathered around the table, a sudden wave of violent nausea hit Loyce. She had barely sat down before she bolted for the bathroom, dry heaving over the sink. The entire family rushed to the door, terrified she had fallen ill...