Chapter 8
The first of every month, the official White House physician tan health checks on the presidential family.
I handed him a check and was about to excuse him.
That’s when Victor Lancaster walked in.
He glanced at the medical files on the table, casually flipped through them, then frowned.
“Why don’t I see anything for the First Lady’s Office?”
One of the doctors immediately froze and dropped to his knees.
“M–Mr. President… The First Lady’s under restricted access.”
“Without direct orders from you, we-
Victor hurled the file at the man’s face.
“She lives in the First Lady’s Office.”
“That’s the First Lady’s residence.”
“What the hell kind of neglect is this?! You got a death wish?!”
The doctor trembled, casting a brief, desperate look toward me.
I gave a soft laugh and gently hooked my arm around Victor’s.
“Oh, that’s on me, darling. I got so caught up in other things, I totally forgot.”
“I’ll have someone check on her right away.”
Victor’s gaze lingered on me with that pointed look of his.
“If managing the residence is too much, I can assign another aide to help.”
“Or… I can just give the role back to the First Lady.”
I felt a jolt in my gut. But I kept my smile sweet and submissive.
“Whatever you decide, sir. I’m yours to command.”
He gave a satisfied nod, then waved everyone out so we could enjoy some…
.privacy.
Say what you will about me, but I know how to read a man. I know how to keep him hooked.
After weeks of lockdown, the First Lady’s wing finally opened up.
The physician knelt beside the bed and checked my pulse carefully.
“You’ve been under a lot of stress,” he said gently,
“Combined with that flu last week… I’m afraid this pregnancy is delicate.”
“I’ll prescribe a few things to help stabilize it,
“But you’ll need rest. Lots of it.”
I nodded.
“This child… I’ve waited years for it.”
Please keep this quiet,
“If anyone with the wrong intentions finds out, things could go very wrong.”
The physician nodded, then as he packed up his tools, he leaned closer and whispered:
“Message from the former First Lady–she wants to meet you.”
“Midnight. Rose Garden. Your choice.”
That night, dressed like one of the maids, I made my way through the dark to the Rose Garden.
The former First Lady stood under the old elm, her face taut with worry.
When she saw me, her expression softened.
“I thought you wouldn’t come.”
She motioned for us to step into the side hall of the First Lady’s Office.
“You summoned me here in the middle of the night. What is it you want to say?”
I knelt before her, my tone flat and calm.
“Do you still want to leave?” she asked.
I hadn’t expected her to bring that up again.
Not after she’d shut herself off from the world and cut off contact following that fallout with the President.
Seeing I didn’t answer, she sighed–a deep, aged sound.
“Eleanor,” she said, “when I first married the former President, we were inseparable.”
“He even refused to hold any selection events for three years.”
“I loved him. I rallied my whole family behind him to get him into office.”
“And I forgot… love changes.”
“Three years into his presidency, my family–worried I hadn’t produced an heir–sent three young candidates to court him.”
“Women from our own bloodline.”
“We tore each other apart in this place.”
“It was here, in this very wing, that I finally won.”
“But it cost me… my baby. Five months along.”
“I carried the guilt with me. I even helped him pick new staffers.”
“But he kept saying I was the only one he truly loved.”
“Then came the fourth year.”
“He brought back a five–year–old boy and said. This is my son from before. He needs a home. Raise him as your own.”
“I said yes. That boy… is now the President.”
“But before his death, my husband left behind a twisted final message.”
“He made sure the whole world knew I wasn’t that child’s real mother.”
“Worse, he blamed me for the death of the boy’s birth mother.”
Chapter
And now that same boy I raised… wants to destroy me.”
Her voice trembled. Then she looked me dead in the eyes.
“If you want to run, I’ll help you.”
The old windows creaked in the cold wind.
The two of us stood there, shadows in a dying house.
“I’m not leaving,” I said.
“What?” Her voice broke.
“There’s nowhere to go. He’ll find me eventually. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Then what do you plan to do?”
“I want them all to pay.”
“This country? It doesn’t belong to the Lancasters. It belongs to the people.”
“Without us, without the women who gave everything, he’d never have lasted a day in office.”
“And he thinks he can just toss us aside?”
The First Lady staggered back, stunned to hear those words from me–me, the quiet one.
“You really believe your candles and prayers will carry you through the rest of your life?”
I asked.
She clutched her chest, slowly sitting on a dusty old bench.
After a long silence, she looked up with something burning in her eyes.
“They say women are too weak. That we can’t lead. I never believed that.”
“Why can’t a woman rule? Why should we be locked behind men forever?”
“Eleanor Sterling… I want you to rise.”
“I want you to make them all kneel.”
“Show them all–every single one–that a woman can climb the mountain too.”
“And she can stand taller than any man alive.”
