Chapter Twenty.
I stopped abruptly as I reached the entrance of my office, instantly feeling the tension in the air. The area was swamped with a throng of people—journalists wielding microphones, cameramen adjusting their lenses, and angry protesters waving billboards plastered with harsh accusations and crude slogans. My eyes darted across the chaotic scene, briefly catching one of the signs that read, "Justice for the weak!" The phrase clung to my thoughts, a bitter reminder of the storm brewing around me.
As soon as I stepped out of the car, the crowd surged forward like a wave crashing onto the shore. Microphones were thrust toward my face, and questions flew at me from all directions. The first reporter to reach me, a woman with a determined look in her eyes, quickly began, "Is this really true? According to—"
