Trump Receives Inaugural FIFA Peace Prize At Kennedy Center Ceremony
President Donald Trump received the inaugural FIFA Peace Prize on Friday, marking the first time the global soccer organization has issued the award. The Trump War Room account announced the news on X with a video showing the trophy and wrote that Trump had been honored “for ending nearly nine wars and for his endless pursuit of peace around the globe.”
The video featured Trump with multiple world leaders following a year of foreign policy accomplishments.
Fox News reported the award was presented at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C., during the World Cup final draw.
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FIFA President Gianni Infantino personally presented Trump with the trophy, which displayed golden hands holding a soccer ball. Trump was also given a medal, which he placed around his neck immediately after accepting it.
A certificate stated the FIFA Peace Prize is presented annually to an individual who advances peace and unity through leadership and action. Trump noted during the presentation, “This is truly one of the great honors of my life.”
He added that he and Infantino discussed efforts they believed saved “millions and millions of lives.”
Trump also highlighted the wars he said were ended during his presidency and the conflicts he said were prevented.
In March, Trump signed an executive order creating the task force for the World Cup tournament shared by the U.S., Canada, and Mexico.
Ukraine agreed to the U.S. peace proposal with only “minor details” remaining to be resolved, a U.S. official told CBS News in November. Rustem Umerov, a senior Ukrainian national security official, appeared to confirm the development, writing on X that Kyiv had reached an understanding on the “core terms” of the American plan during recent discussions in Geneva.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky is expected to travel to the White House later to finalize the agreement.
Separately, the United States and Russia held undisclosed talks in Abu Dhabi on last month, according to reports from Reuters and the Financial Times, as the Trump administration works to sustain momentum behind its evolving peace initiative. Those discussions are expected to continue on Tuesday, even as the conflict in Ukraine persists, Newsweek reported.
U.S. Army Secretary Dan Driscoll is meeting with a Russian delegation in Abu Dhabi as part of ongoing discussions over the proposed Ukraine peace plan. Kyrylo Budanov, the head of Ukraine’s military intelligence directorate (GUR), is also in Abu Dhabi at the same time, according to the Financial Times.
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The original 28-point U.S. proposal, which Russia viewed favorably, was “refined” following U.S.–Ukraine talks in Geneva on Sunday to address concerns from Kyiv that the initial draft tilted too far toward Moscow and crossed several of Ukraine’s red lines. The most recent version of the plan under negotiation contains 19 points.
The diplomatic activity came amid a surge of fighting on the ground. Ukrainian officials reported intense Russian strikes overnight into Tuesday, involving 460 drones and 22 missiles, resulting in multiple civilian deaths and dozens of injuries, including in Kyiv. Russia, in turn, said a large-scale Ukrainian drone attack on its territory had caused additional civilian casualties, the outlet added.
Romania, a NATO member, said it detected at least two Russian drones that breached its airspace during Moscow’s latest large-scale aerial attack on Ukraine, prompting the country to scramble fighter jets in response.
European allies, who were dissatisfied with President Trump’s initial peace proposal — a plan they were not involved in drafting — developed their own counter-proposal. They stated that no final framework affecting either the European Union or NATO could be agreed to without the consent of all member states. Russia rejected the European plan as unacceptable.
SHE THOUGHT KICKING A PREGNANT WIFE IN THE HOSPITAL WOULD END THE MARRIAGE — UNTIL THE BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND SAW THE TRUTH WITH HIS OWN EYES.
The low, vibrating chime of Marcus’s phone seemed to echo in the sudden, absolute silence of the VIP hospital suite. Outside the large glass windows, the distant murmur of the charity fundraiser gala continued, a stark contrast to the thick, suffocating tension that had gripped the room.
Marcus slowly pulled the phone from his tuxedo pocket. His eyes never left Isabella as his thumb swiped across the screen, playing the high-definition security footage sent directly by his head of security.
On the screen, there was no ambiguity. There was no "self-defense." The footage clearly showed Isabella lunging at me, her face twisted in a mask of pure malice as she shoved my seven-month-pregnant body into the side table. It showed the champagne glass shattering, and most horrifying of all, it captured the exact second her pointed red heel drove brutally into my abdomen while I lay helpless on the floor.
A muscle ticked violently in Marcus’s jaw. The cold, calculated billionaire who ran Thorne Enterprises—the man who prided himself on being five steps ahead of every competitor, every investor, and every enemy—looked completely paralyzed by the sheer weight of his own blindness.
"Marcus, honey, you can't believe whatever she's trying to play at," Isabella stammered, her voice rising an octave as she took a tentative step toward him, her hands reaching out to touch his lapel. "Khloe has been unstable for weeks. She’s jealous because she knows you don't love her. She staged this! She threw herself into that table just to make me look like a monster!"
"Get away from her," Marcus whispered.
The words were so quiet, so devoid of emotion, that Isabella froze mid-step.
"What?" she blinked, her polished, glamorous facade cracking completely.
"I said," Marcus raised his head, his piercing dark eyes locking onto hers with a lethal, suffocating intensity that made the gala coordinator behind him take a step back into the hallway, "get your hands off me, and step away from my wife."
"Marcus—"
"Michael!" Marcus roared, his voice cutting through the room like a physical blow.
Instantly, three burly men in dark suits and communication earpieces pushed past the coordinator into the room. The leader, Michael, looked at the blood on the floor near my maternity gown and his expression hardened into stone.
"Sir?" Michael asked, his hand resting near his holster.
"Secure Isabella Rossi," Marcus commanded, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of absolute authority and suffocating rage. "Take her to the holding room in the basement. If she attempts to leave, if she attempts to make a single phone call, use whatever force is necessary. Notify the Chief of Police that I am filing charges for attempted murder and felony assault on a pregnant woman."
"Attempted murder?!" Isabella shrieked as Michael and another guard gripped her upper arms, effortlessly pinning her arms behind her back. Her expensive red dress twisted around her frame as she struggled against their grip. "Marcus, you can't do this to me! My father is your primary investor! If you lock me up, the Rossi Group will liquidate every single share of Thorne Enterprises by midnight! You'll be ruined!"
Marcus didn't even look at her as she was dragged out of the room, her high heels scuffing loudly against the hardwood floor, her screams fading down the private VIP corridor.
The moment the doors hissed shut behind her, Marcus dropped to his knees on the carpet, completely ignoring the shards of broken glass that sliced into the expensive fabric of his tuxedo. His hands were shaking violently as he reached out toward me, but he stopped short of touching me, as if terrified that his very presence would cause me more pain.
"Khloe..." he breathed, his voice raw, stripped entirely of the smooth arrogance he usually carried. "Khloe, look at me. I’m here. I’m right here. Don't close your eyes."
A searing, blinding pain tore across my lower abdomen, making me gasp for air. I tightly curled into a ball on the floor, my fingers digging into my white maternity gown, which was rapidly staining with a terrifying, deep crimson hue.
"The... the baby," I choked out, a tear spilling over my eyelid and mixing with the sweat on my forehead. "Marcus... he’s not moving. Please... help him."
"Medical team!" Marcus screamed toward the door, his composure breaking entirely as he saw the blood. "Get the Chief of Obstetrics up here right now! If anyone hesitates, I will burn this entire hospital to the ground!"
Within seconds, the room was swarmed by medical staff in blue scrubs. A gurney was pushed to my side, and I was carefully lifted onto it. As the world began to blur around the edges from the sheer agony and blood loss, I felt a strong, calloused hand wrap tightly around mine.
Marcus was running alongside the gurney as they pushed me toward the emergency operating theater. His face was pale, his eyes wide with a horrific realization that had come far too late.
"I've got you, Khloe," he pleaded, his voice cracking as he squeezed my hand. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just hold on. Please, just hold on for our son."
I looked up at the harsh fluorescent lights of the ceiling as the heavy double doors of the operating room swung open. Our son, he had called him. For months, Marcus had treated this pregnancy like a corporate obligation, a cold arrangement to secure his family’s legacy while he allowed Isabella to whisper poison in his ear. But as the darkness finally rushed in to swallow me whole, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: if my baby didn't survive this night, there would be nothing left of Marcus Thorne’s world to salvage.
