Chapter 1
The world knew Theodore David Dekker as the face of change, but only Theodore knew that the mastermind behind the revolution stood before him, adjusting the knot of his tie with the composed precision of a general.
"Ninety-nine million votes chose you, Ted. Don’t keep them waiting any longer," Tatiana said softly. Her voice was steady, flawless—the hallmark of a litigator who had just won the greatest case of her life.
Theodore watched his wife through the mirror’s reflection. Tatiana Aalten Dekker was breathtaking in a deep navy Kebaya Encim crafted from premium silk. Intricate embroidery of ivory-white roses climbed elegantly from the collar to the hem, exuding the aura of a Betawi woman who was sophisticated, powerful, and commanding.
Her jet-black hair was swept into a sleek low bun with a precise center part, pulled tight to accentuate the sharp architecture of her high cheekbones. Tucked into the folds of her hair were three fresh white roses, still damp with dew—a touch of purity that contrasted with the piercing sharpness of her eyes and the bold maroon lipstick adorning her lips.
However, what made her presence truly intimidating was the suite of Cartier High Jewelry she wore. Around her neck sat a collar of graduated diamonds framing several massive Royal Blue Sapphires. The sapphires glowed with a cold fire, their deep blue hue seemingly swallowing the room's light. At her ears, cushion-cut sapphire studs caught the light with every movement, while a formidable sapphire ring on her ring finger served as a silent seal of unmatched authority.
"I wouldn’t be here without you, My Love," Theodore whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he took her hand. "This victory belongs to you as much as it does to me."
Tatiana offered a professional smile. "This victory belongs to the people, Mr. President-elect. My job is to ensure you stay there for them."
Theodore disliked the formal deflection. Within these four walls, he wasn't a President. With a sudden, firm tug at her waist, Theodore closed the distance between them until the scent of white roses from her hair filled his senses. Before Tatiana could protest, he cupped her face and claimed her lips in a kiss—brutal, demanding, and intent on erasing the distance created by presidential protocol.
Tatiana gasped, her hands hovering against his broad chest. For a few seconds, she allowed herself to be swept away by his dominance before her reason screamed for control.
"Theodore!" Tatiana pulled away, breathless, her fingers frantically brushing the corner of her mouth. "Stop! You’ll ruin my lipstick. It took ages to get this perfect, and we have to leave in two minutes!"
Theodore let out a low, vibrant baritone laugh, savoring the sight of his usually untouchable wife looking slightly disheveled. He ran his thumb over the corner of her lips, smearing a trace of maroon that had bled onto her porcelain skin.
"Let them see," Theodore murmured, his eyes flashing with a dark, possessive mischief. "Let the world know that before you were the youngest First Lady in history, you were entirely mine."
Tatiana glared at him, snatching a tissue from the vanity. "Not funny, Ted. Everyone is waiting outside, and I refuse to walk out looking like I’ve been in a hallway brawl."
Despite her scolding, she couldn't hide the faint flush on her cheeks. She deftly repaired her velvet-matte lipstick, ensuring her appearance was once again razor-sharp and flawless before the double doors opened and they had to return to being the most powerful young couple in the nation.
When the doors of their private mansion were flung open by officers of the Military Secretariat, the atmosphere shifted instantly into one of rigid formality. Rows of aides and members of Paspampres Group A—the human shield that, as of this morning, officially took over their close-range security—stood at attention, forming a militaristic gauntlet.
"The President and First Lady-elect are departing!" an officer bellowed.
Tatiana walked beside Theodore. The rhythmic click of her heels against the marble floor sounded like a countdown to destiny. But just as they reached the threshold leading to the motorcade of black SUVs idling in the courtyard, her step nearly faltered.
Standing tall beside the open door of the black bulletproof presidential limousine was him.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The man stood remarkably upright in a bespoke black suit tailored to his athletic frame. His head was bare, showcasing a crisp, high-and-tight special forces haircut. A clear spiral earpiece curved discreetly around his right ear, while on his lapel, the gold Paspampres shield pin glinted in the morning Jakarta sun.
Aiden Anthony Moretti.
Ten years. For ten years, Tatiana had built fortresses around her heart. For ten years, she had buried that name beneath mountains of legal briefs and political ambition. And now, he stood there as the Team Commander of her personal security detail.
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Tatiana saw a flash of shock in Aiden’s dark brown eyes before his military mask snapped back into an expressionless void. Aiden gave a crisp salute, his hand encased in a stiff white glove, his gaze fixed forward as if the woman in front of him were merely a protocol objective to be protected—not the woman whose heart he had once shattered.
A wave of nausea hit Tatiana's stomach. The man who broke her was now her shadow.
Theodore felt her fingers turn to ice. Ever observant, he caught the shift instantly. He glanced at Aiden, then back at his wife. Theodore was no fool. Before this inauguration day, he had reviewed every profile of their security detail. He knew the name Aiden Anthony Moretti. He knew the stellar special forces background. And as a man who loved Tatiana more than life itself, Theodore had dug deep enough to know there was a 'hole' in Tatiana’s past named Aiden.
Instead of showing jealousy or anger, Theodore made a move of absolute power. He pulled Tatiana closer, wrapping an arm around her waist in a gesture that was both protective and authoritative.
"Keep walking, Darling," Theodore whispered, his voice low and commanding. "Focus on today. Focus on me."
Tatiana turned to her husband, seeking strength. Theodore looked at her with a depth of understanding that said: I know who he is, and I understand you before you even have to ask.
"I’m right here," Theodore whispered again.
Tatiana gave a small nod, reeling her soul back in. As she reached the car, Aiden stepped forward. With a swift, practiced motion, he placed a hand above the doorframe to shield her head as she entered—a standard protocol that brought him agonizingly close.
"Please, Madam First Lady," Aiden said, his voice husky. The voice that had once laughed with her in the past now only uttered cold, formal procedures.
As the door clicked shut and the engine purred to life, the convoy began to move. Inside the soundproof cabin, Tatiana leaned back. Through the side mirror, she could see the escort vehicle following directly behind. She knew that inside that car, Aiden was watching her—ready to be the shield for the very life he had destroyed a decade ago.
"Are you alright?" Theodore asked gently, squeezing her still-rigid hand.
Tatiana turned, forcing a thin smile behind the shimmer of her Cartier sapphires. "Just a bit of inaugural nerves, Ted."
Theodore kissed the back of her hand. "Don't worry. We’ve finally reached the summit."
Tatiana stared ahead at the streets of Jakarta lined with cheering crowds. She was the First Lady, she wore the rarest sapphires, and she stood beside the most powerful man. But as the sirens wailed, Tatiana knew that from this moment on, her life would be anything but simple.
