Islamabad – June 2026
It started with a leak.
A memo from the Ministry of Housing—marked CONFIDENTIAL—was somehow "accidentally" published on a journalist's Substack.
It exposed over Rs 1.2 billion in funds marked for "ghost housing societies" that existed only on paper—but had drawn utilities, approvals, and even fake inaugurations.
Within hours, social media exploded.
#FileSeFasad trended for 48 hours straight.
Anchors debated wildly.
Ministers panicked.
Opposition claimed credit.
What no one knew was: Rayan had leaked it himself.
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Three Weeks Earlier – The Plan
"Public support," he'd told Kamal, "is not earned through lectures. It's earned by surgical outrage."
Justice Rahim had warned him: "Play this card too early, and they'll paint you as a saboteur."
Rayan nodded. "That's why we won't play it. We'll let it happen to us."
And so, a carefully timed internal audit was "accidentally" emailed to three low-profile journalists—none of whom had direct ties to any political parties, but all of whom had Telegram channels that mattered.
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The Public Awakens
For the first time, the Strategic Reform Secretariat (SRS) was named on primetime TV.
Rayan, of course, didn't give interviews. But Zara did.
She spoke in clear Urdu, skipped English buzzwords, and wore no party badge.
> "We are not a party. We are just a correction."
The public's reaction?
Confused. Curious. Intrigued.
Suddenly, journalists began calling SRS the "Breaker's Dozen"—a reference to the 13 officials, coders, and policy analysts silently embedded across ministries, pushing reform from the inside.