The glow of Lydia’s phone screen casts sharp shadows across her face as she reads the notification aloud:

  ?? Maye Ruiz (@CrimsonDoctrine) has joined the chat.

  The comments erupt.

  ?? "NOT MAYE TOO??"

  ?? "Lydia’s about to get SCHOOLED"

  ?? "This is gonna be brutal"

  Lydia hesitates for only a second before smirking.

  Lydia:

  "Another one? Fine. Let’s hear it."

  She taps "Allow Guest."

  The screen splits.

  On one side—Lydia, defiant but visibly fatigued from st night’s battle with Zara.

  On the other—Maye Ruiz, poised in her Celestia apartment, dressed in a tailored Saint Laurent bzer, her red Ferrari Portofino keys resting on the desk like a deliberate prop.

  Maye (smiling, serene):

  "Lydia. I’ve been fascinated by your arguments. Truly. But I think you’re missing the core of what we represent."

  Her voice is calm, measured—a scalpel compared to Zara’s hammer.

  Lydia (crossing her arms):

  "Enlighten me."

  Maye (leaning forward slightly):

  "You frame our movement as ‘submission.’ But what if it’s strategic recmation?"

  She pauses, letting the phrase hang.

  ?? "Oh shit, Maye’s starting with the big guns"

  ?? "Lydia’s not ready for this"

  ?? "She’s too methodical"

  Lydia (scoffing):

  "Recmation? You’re literally calling yourselves a harem."

  Maye (uncharred, tilting her head):

  "Language evolves, Lydia. ‘Harem’ once meant sacred guardians of power. We’re restoring that meaning."

  A calcuted pause.

  Maye (softly):

  "Tell me—when you scream into the void, who listens? When we speak, the world leans in."

  ?? "DAMN"

  ?? "Maye’s too smooth"

  ?? "Lydia’s scrambling"

  Lydia (firm, but defensive):

  "You’re just repackaging oppression as empowerment."

  Maye (smiling, as if she expected this):

  "Oppression? Let’s examine that. You say feminism frees women. Yet, how many feminists truly hold power? Not influence—real, tangible power?"

  Lydia (countering):

  "It’s about systemic change, not just—"

  Maye (cutting in, voice like silk):

  "Ah, systemic change. The eternal promise. Meanwhile, we have the system’s keys."

  She lifts her Ferrari key, letting it catch the light.

  Maye (softly):

  "Tell me, Lydia—if feminism worked, why are you here, alone in a dorm room, while I’m in a penthouse?"

  ?? "BRUH"

  ?? "Maye’s dismantling her"

  ?? "This is a MASTERCLASS"

  Lydia (gritting her teeth):

  "Because I’m not selling out for a paycheck!"

  Maye (ughing lightly):

  "Selling out? Or buying in? You dismiss luxury as corruption—but why shouldn’t women have wealth? Why shouldn’t we command rooms instead of begging for scraps?"

  A heavy silence.

  Maye (pressing, relentless):

  "You cim to fight for women. But you resent the ones who win. Is that really solidarity?"

  ?? "Lydia’s got no answer"

  ?? "Maye’s exposing her"

  ?? "This is painful"

  Lydia (voice tightening):

  "It’s not about resentment—it’s about principles!"

  Maye (smiling, victorious):

  "Principles don’t pay rent, Lydia. Power does."

  She gnces at her phone, then back at the camera.

  Maye (standing, smoothing her bzer):

  "Think about that. Or don’t. Either way—we’ll keep winning."

  Maye strides in, exhaling as she pours herself a gss of wine.

  Lydia inhales sharply through her nose, fingers tightening around the edge of her desk. The screen still glows with Maye’s disconnected feed, but the fire in Lydia’s eyes hasn’t dimmed—it’s sharpened.

  Lydia (voice low, controlled):

  "Ad hominem."

  A beat. The chat pauses, then erupts.

  ?? "WAIT WHAT"

  ?? "SHES CALLING IT OUT"

  ?? "OH SHIT LYDIA’S NOT DONE"

  She leans into the camera, her gaze ser-focused.

  Lydia (calm, precise):

  "Let’s dissect that perfect little performance, shall we? You spent this entire debate doing three things: One—attacking me instead of my arguments. Two—equating wealth with progress. And three—pretending that your version of ‘winning’ isn’t just surrendering to the exact system you cim to ‘recim.’"

  ?? "SHE’S RIGHT"

  ?? "MAYE DID DO THAT"

  ?? "LYDIA’S COOKING NOW"

  Lydia (mocking, fingers counting off):

  "‘You’re in a dorm room, I’m in a penthouse’—irrelevant. ‘Feminism hasn’t fixed everything’—straw man. ‘We have the keys’—keys you didn’t forge, just stole from the same hands that locked the doors in the first pce."

  She sms her palm on the desk.

  Lydia (feral grin):

  "So no, Maye. You didn’t win. You distracted. And I’m done letting you people spin slogans into substitutes for substance."

  The viewer count skyrockets—100K… 120K…

  ?? "HOLY SHIT"

  ?? "LYDIA JUST NUKED HER"

  ?? "MAYE GOT EXPOSED"

  Lydia (standing now, voice booming):

  "Next time you want a real debate? Leave the falcies at the door. Otherwise, all you’re proving is that your ideology can’t stand on its own without cheap shots."

  Maye Ruiz’s screen goes dark, but Lydia doesn’t end the stream. Instead, she leans forward, eyes burning with renewed intensity.

  Lydia (voice sharp, deliberate):

  "You want to talk about recmation, Maye? Let’s talk about you. Two years ago, you were @MarxAndMascara—anti-capitalist, pro-bor, screaming about wealth inequality. Now? You’re draped in Saint Laurent, shilling for a billionaire’s harem. What happened? Or should I ask—who happened?"

  The chat explodes.

  ?? "LYDIA JUST DROPPED THE RECEIPTS"

  ?? "MAYE’S OLD ACCOUNT LMAO"

  ?? "THIS IS A PUBLIC EXECUTION"

  For the first time, Maye’s composure flickers.

  Maye (tight smile):

  "People evolve, Lydia. Or do you think women should be stuck in their past selves forever?"

  Lydia (ughs, harsh):

  "‘Evolve’? Is that what you call it? You didn’t evolve—you sold out. You went from ‘eat the rich’ to serving one. At least Zara’s honest about being a mercenary. You? You’re still pretending this is revolutionary."

  ?? "SHE’S NOT WRONG"

  ?? "MAYE’S FACE LMFAO"

  ?? "GET HER LYDIA"

  Maye (cooling, but defensive):

  "My ptform is revolutionary. ‘Lipstick as war paint’—"

  Lydia (mocking):

  "Oh please. Your ‘ptform’ is just billionaire’s PR with a red bow. You’re not challenging power—you’re decorating it."

  A tense silence. The viewer count hits 200K.

  Then—Maye shifts tactics.

  Maye (suddenly earnest, leaning in):

  "Fine. Let me crify my ideology, since you’re so invested. The Crimson Doctrine isn’t about submission. It’s about weaponizing desire. Turning the male gaze back on itself. Using beauty as a tool to dismantle—"

  Lydia (snorts):

  "By fucking the patriarchy instead of burning it down? Wow. Radical."

  Maye (ignoring the jab, voice rising):

  "You think your boycotts and hashtags scare them? We infiltrate. We take their money, their influence, their god complexes, and we use it. That’s real power."

  ?? "MAYE’S ACTUALLY MAKING SENSE"

  ?? "LYDIA’S LOSING GROUND"

  ?? "THIS IS WILD"

  Lydia's eyes narrow as she leans into the camera, her voice dripping with skepticism.

  Lydia:

  "You talk about infiltrating power, but where’s the proof? Where’s your actual political machine?"

  Maye’s smile turns razor-sharp. She taps her phone, pulling up a sleek campaign graphic—Li Vane, now polished and poised, standing before a newly renovated community hall.

  Maye (voice dripping with quiet triumph):

  "Eight months ago, Li Vane was a 23-year-old grassroots activist handing out flyers in the rain. Today? She owns ten public halls and five sports fields across the city. Next month, she announces her campaign for City Council. Next year? The state legisture."

  ?? "HOLY SHIT LILA’S WITH THEM??"

  ?? "THOSE HALLS ARE EVERYWHERE NOW"

  ?? "LYDIA LOOKS SHOOK"

  Lydia (blinking):

  "...How?"

  Maye (leaning in):

  "Our ideology in action. Li doesn’t protest the system—she repces it. Those halls? Funded through Hezri’s networks. The sports fields? Gifted to her—legally, fwlessly—by our real estate fronts. She rallies communities while we secure the infrastructure. No begging for donations. No waiting for ‘change.’ Just results."

  ?? "THIS IS NEXT-LEVEL"

  ?? "LYDIA CAN’T EVAN ARGUE THIS"

  ?? "THEY’RE PLAYING CHESS NOT CHECKERS"

  Lydia (narrowing her eyes):

  "So she’s your puppet?"

  Maye (ughing):

  "She’s our proof. The Crimson Doctrine isn’t about submission—it’s about strategic conquest. Li doesn’t kneel; she ascends. But instead of climbing the old, rotting dder of politics, we built her a new one."

  She swipes to a clip of Li speaking—fiery, magnetic—to a packed hall:

  "We don’t ask for power. We take it—by creating what they failed to provide!"

  The crowd erupts in cheers.

  Maye (softly):

  "That’s what you don’t understand, Lydia. Your feminism asks. Ours builds. And soon? We’ll own the damn city."

  Lydia (quietly):

  "...You’re not just pying the game. You’re rewriting it."

  Maye (smirking):

  "Finally. She gets it."

  She disconnects, leaving Lydia staring at the frozen image of Li’s triumphant rally.

  Maye colpses onto the couch, exhaling.

  Zara (grinning):

  "You buried her."

  Hezri (amused):

  "Li’s the perfect weapon. Idealistic enough to inspire, pragmatic enough to win."

  Sophie (tapping her tablet):

  "And now? The whole city will link Li’s success to our ideology. Even if they hate us, they’ll want what we built."

  Maye (raising her gss):

  "To rewriting the game."

  ?? [LIVE STREAM ENDED]

  ??? 350K viewers | 100K shares | 200K comments