...eavesdropped on a group of revelers

A man in a bull mask joked about using military connections to suppress labor strikes, while another in a gilded owl mask boasted about securing lucrative government contracts through backdoor deals. Isabella felt a knot tighten in her stomach. This wasn’t just a gathering of elites; it was a display of their unchecked power.

"We have an entire nation in the palm of our hands," one man crowed, his voice thick with **** and arrogance.

A woman in a swan mask laughed, her voice low and sultry. "And now that the old fool is gone, we have an even greater opportunity. We should celebrate."

"How so?" asked the bull masked man.

"I heard a rumor," she replied, leaning in closer. "It seems our new leader has a weakness for pleasure. If we play our cards right, we could bend her to our will."

The room erupted in laughter, the implications clear. Isabella flushed with shame, her cheeks burning beneath her mask. The conversation soon drifted to other topics, but the damage had been done. She felt exposed, violated. And she realized, with growing horror, that these were not isolated instances. Everywhere she looked, there was corruption and greed. It was not just the men, but the women, too, all competing for power and privilege, trampling those beneath them in pursuit of their ambitions.