Trump Riding Wave Into Summer Amid String Of Victories
President Donald Trump is riding a surge of momentum after signing his $3.3 trillion “big, beautiful bill” on Friday—capping off a string of major victories for his administration in recent weeks.
The bill’s passage follows a series of high-profile wins, including a favorable Supreme Court ruling and successful precision strikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities, Fox News reported.
“President Trump has delivered more wins for the American people in two weeks than most Presidents do in four years,” White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt said in a Thursday statement to Fox News Digital.
“This has been the most historic two weeks of any Administration in history. Thanks to President Trump, America is back and is the hottest country in the world!” she added.
The tax and domestic policy bill reached Trump’s desk after the House passed its final version on Thursday—meeting his self-imposed deadline to have the legislation finalized by the Fourth of July.
The bill features several key provisions, including the permanent extension of individual and business tax cuts originally enacted under Trump’s 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act. It also introduces new deductions aimed at eliminating taxes on tips and overtime pay.
One of the more controversial elements is a $5 trillion increase to the debt ceiling—a move that has drawn criticism from figures like SpaceX and Tesla CEO Elon Musk.
In addition, the legislation rolls back several Biden-era green energy tax credits and directs roughly $350 billion toward defense spending and Trump’s large-scale deportation initiative targeting illegal immigration, Fox
added.
The measure also enacts major Medicaid reforms, including a new requirement that recipients work at least 80 hours per month. It further expands work requirements for those receiving benefits under the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP).
Trump has had several other major victories too.
On June 21, the United States launched airstrikes targeting critical Iranian nuclear facilities, involving more than 125 U.S. aircraft, according to Gen. Dan Caine, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
In a national address following the strikes, President Trump declared that the nuclear sites had been “completely and totally obliterated.” General Dan Caine added that initial battle damage assessments indicated “all three sites sustained extremely severe damage and destruction.”
“We have degraded their program by one to two years, at least intel assessments inside the Department (of Defense) assess that,” Defense Department spokesman Sean Parnell told reporters Wednesday.
Trump has also had several legal victories.
On June 27, the Supreme Court ruled 6–3 to bar lower courts from issuing universal injunctions. Several of President Trump’s executive orders during his second term—including his ban on birthright citizenship—had been stalled by such nationwide rulings.
The Supreme Court’s decision limits lower courts to issuing broad injunctions only in rare, narrowly defined circumstances—a move Trump said would put an end to what he called a “colossal abuse of power.”
“I was elected on a historic mandate, but in recent months, we’ve seen a handful of radical left judges effectively try to overrule the rightful powers of the president to stop the American people from getting the policies that they voted for in record numbers,” Trump said on June 27.
On Tuesday, CBS News’ parent company, Paramount Global, agreed to a $16 million settlement with President Trump over a lawsuit he filed in October 2024. The suit stemmed from a 60 Minutes interview featuring his 2024 election opponent, Vice President Kamala Harris.
In the lawsuit, Trump claimed that CBS deceptively edited Vice President Harris’s interview by omitting her initial, less polished response to a question about why Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu wasn’t “listening” to the Biden administration.
The settlement funds will not be paid directly to Trump but will instead be allocated toward his future presidential library and used to cover the plaintiffs’ legal fees and costs, Fox reported.
CBS stated that the agreement was reached through mediation and confirmed that Paramount would not issue an apology as part of the settlement.
I Tried to Stay Invisible While Cleaning His Mansion. Now, I'm the Only Weakness of a Ruthless Syndicate Boss.
“Don’t Get in the Car,” the Maid Warned While Fixing His Tie—The Mafia Boss Saw the Gun Too Late
Blood smelled like copper, but impending violence smelled like ozone and cold sweat.
Nora knew both intimately.
As she reached up to straighten Dominic’s silk tie, her knuckles brushed the steady pulse in his throat. He smelled of bergamot and bitter espresso.
Over his shoulder, through the glass double doors, she saw the driver.
His jacket hung incorrectly. A heavy metallic bulk ruined its bespoke lines.
Nora smoothed the silk.
“Your driver has a gun,” she whispered. “Don’t get in the car.”
Lemon oil and beeswax.
That was the scent of survival.
Nora moved the microfiber cloth in punishing concentric circles over the mahogany console table in the foyer. The wood was already immaculate, a dark mirror reflecting the cut-crystal chandelier overhead, but stillness inside the house was a liability.
If she stood still, she was listening.
If she was listening, she was a threat.
Nora kept her hands moving.
Her knuckles were raw, and harsh detergent had split the skin around her cuticles. Every flex of her fingers produced a mild sting.
It was a grounding pain.
It kept her awake.
Morning inside the Rossi estate was a sterile and muted affair. The walls were thick, and the carpets were plush enough to swallow the sound of a falling body.
Nora had worked there for 11 months, long enough to understand the architecture of power and the geometry of keeping her head down.
She was a maid, a ghost inside a gray uniform with white trim. Every Friday, she collected a cash envelope and deposited it directly into a checking account that was slowly and painfully building toward a 1-way ticket out of the state.
Footsteps sounded on the grand staircase.
They were not the hurried, heavy steps of the men guarding the perimeter. They were the measured, rhythmic clicks of leather against marble.
Dominic.
Nora did not look up immediately.
She moved to the side of the hall, lowered her head slightly, and blended into the damask wallpaper.
Dominic Rossi descended into the foyer, bringing a displacement of air that felt physically heavy.
He was not the hulking, scarred brute found in cheap films. He was lean, built with the coiled and wiry tension of a greyhound.
That morning, he wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than Nora’s annual rent.
As he stepped from the final stair into the natural light coming through the frosted doors, Nora saw the frayed edges of his immaculate appearance.
His jaw was clenched.
Faint purple shadows beneath his dark eyes revealed nights spent staring at ceilings and calculating betrayals.
Dominic stopped beside the mirror above the console table.
He did not examine his reflection. He stared through the glass, his mind elsewhere, perhaps dissecting supply chains or arranging someone’s quiet disappearance.
Nora stood near the coat rack with his wool overcoat.
Her role was to hand it to him, open the door, and disappear.
Something was wrong.
Dominic’s tie was a heavy, woven midnight-blue silk. Its knot had been pulled slightly to the left, causing the collar of his white shirt to pinch awkwardly.
For anyone else, it would have meant nothing.
For Dominic Rossi, a man who controlled his surroundings with terrifying precision, it was an alarm.
He was distracted.
Dangerously so.
Nora stepped forward.
Her rubber-soled shoes squeaked softly against the marble.
Dominic’s eyes snapped toward her reflection.
They were cold and empty, the eyes of a predator registering movement.
Nora did not freeze.
Freezing was what prey did.
She kept her posture neutral and concentrated on his collar, ignoring the lethal weight of his attention.
She closed the distance between them.
“Your tie, sir,” she said without inflection.
He did not grant permission, but he did not step away.
That was enough.
Nora raised her hands.
The silk was cool beneath her rough fingertips.
She moved the knot precisely into the center of his throat, and the backs of her knuckles touched his skin.
He was burning.
Feverish heat radiated from his neck.
She smelled the clean citrus of his cologne. Beneath it was the acrid bitterness of old coffee and unrestrained stress.
He was a man holding a collapsing empire together with his bare hands.
As Nora smoothed his lapels, her eyes moved past his shoulder.
Through the reinforced glass of the front doors, she could see the circular driveway.
The armored black sedan was idling. Small clouds of white exhaust vanished into the cold morning air.
Arthur, the morning driver, stood beside the rear passenger door.
Nora had served him coffee many times.
He was a thickly built man who normally leaned against the fender, scrolling through his telephone with bored indifference.
That morning, Arthur was not leaning.
He stood rigidly upright.
His left hand was completely hidden behind his back.
It was the right side of his body that captured Nora’s attention.
His suit jacket hung incorrectly.
It did not drape. A bulge pulled the fabric tightly across his ribs, and the weight dragged the hem downward.
It was the unmistakable outline of a suppressed firearm inside a shoulder holster. The weapon sat higher and appeared bulkier than the standard sidearms carried by the estate guards.
Arthur was also sweating.
A thin layer of moisture reflected the sunlight across his forehead.
It was 40° outside.
His eyes repeatedly moved toward the front door.
He was not scanning the perimeter or waiting for his employer.
He was watching the glass.
Waiting for a target.
Nora’s hands remained on Dominic’s chest.
Her heart struck violently against her ribs.
If Dominic walked outside, Arthur would draw the gun.
There would be shouting, blood, and retaliation.
The estate would enter lockdown. No one would leave, and no one would be paid.
The fragile and quiet life Nora had constructed inside the shadows of the criminal organization would collapse.
She did not care about Dominic Rossi.
She cared about the Friday envelope.
She cared about routine.
Nora kept her expression completely blank.
She gave the silk tie 1 final and decisive adjustment.
Then she leaned forward by a fraction, her mouth near the lapel of Dominic’s suit.
“Your driver has a gun,” she whispered, barely audible over the grandfather clock ticking inside the hall. “Don’t get in the car.”
Dominic did not react.
That was the most frightening part.
A normal man would have jerked backward, looked through the doors, gasped, or demanded an explanation.
Dominic did nothing.
His breathing did not change.
His eyes remained fixed on Nora’s pale face without widening.
The coldness in his gaze seemed to deepen.
For 2 agonizing seconds, the foyer’s silence pressed against Nora’s ears.
Her hands still rested lightly against his chest.
She felt the calm and steady movement of his heart.
Then Dominic raised his hand.
His fingers closed around Nora’s wrist.
The grip was a steel vise, completely disproportionate to the elegance of his appearance. Pressure came immediately, grinding the delicate bones together.
A sharp gasp escaped her.
“You missed a spot,” Dominic said.
His low voice was pitched for ordinary conversation. It sounded casual and bored.
He did not look at the doors or Arthur.
Dominic pivoted smoothly and used his grip on her wrist to pull Nora with him.
He dragged her away from the glass and toward the interior of the estate, positioning her body between himself and the outside world.
A human shield.
The realization struck Nora with a wave of nausea.
If Arthur panicked and fired through the doors, the bullets would enter her spine first.
“Sir, my arm,” she said through clenched teeth.
She stumbled over the hem of her uniform skirt while trying to match Dominic’s long, unhurried strides.
“Quiet.”
The word carried the finality of a guillotine.
He pulled Nora past the dining room and toward the floor-to-ceiling oak doors of his private study.
She was permitted to clean that room only on Tuesdays and under a guard’s supervision.
It was Thursday.
Dominic opened the doors, pulled Nora inside, and kicked them closed.
The reinforced lock engaged with the sound of a vault sealing.
The study was dark and smelled of old paper, leather bindings, and faint cigar smoke. Heavy velvet drapes covered the windows.
The moment the lock engaged, Dominic’s facade disappeared.
He released Nora’s wrist.
She moved backward, rubbing the red marks already forming across her skin while her breath came in short, hard movements.
Dominic was already in motion.
The exhaustion was gone, replaced by kinetic violence.
He crossed the room in 3 steps and reached beneath the mahogany desk.
Metal scraped.
A slide moved with a heavy, oily clack.
When Dominic straightened, he held a black handgun.
He did not aim it at Nora. The barrel remained angled toward the Persian rug, but his body was coiled and ready.
