He turned to face me, a slight smile playing on his lips. « I think, » he replied, « that some people believe their money can solve any problem. » His words were measured, deliberate, each syllable weighted with meaning. I nodded, sensing the deeper currents beneath our conversation.
Back in my office, I had pored over the documents, tracing the connections, the signatures, the dates. Each layer revealed another facet of the intricate web that had been spun around the issue of Trump’s citizenship. The stakes were high, and the pressure to keep this under wraps was immense.
Clooney’s words echoed in my mind as I considered the next steps. The gala continued around us, the music and laughter a stark contrast to the gravity of our discussion. There was a sense of inevitability in the air, a feeling that something was about to give.
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