Chapter 12: The King in Exile
He left without ceremony.
No grand convoy, no final speech atop the ruins.
Just a battered SUV with tinted windows, a handful of loyalists still clinging to his promises like life jackets, and a hastily packed duffel bag filled with fast food coupons and fading loyalty cards.
The world outside Palm Beachonia barely noticed his departure.
They were too busy bulldozing the golden Wall, setting up mobile food kitchens, and quietly arguing over whether to list Palm Beachonia under Historical Tragedy or Performance Art in the national archives.
King Donald the First—still insisting on the title, even as the world had already demoted him to footnote—made his way across the Atlantic, bound for a refuge no one else wanted.
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