Chapter 9
Three days after our meeting, the former First Lady came down with a sudden du.
The physicians moved in and out of the first Lady’s Office constantly.
Every woman in the residence took turns nursing her.
Even Isabella stopped showing up to check on me.
But Victor Lancaster did.
He came often.
I didn’t shut him out. I didn’t lash out either.
Each time he showed up, I just sat quietly by the fireplace, transcribing scripture.
He took my calmness as encouragement and started coming more and more.
We went through crate after crate of fresh tea in the First Lady’s Office.
Occasionally, when we both had time, he’d ask to play a few rounds of chess.
I’d always say yes.
Then one evening, he stayed late. Too late.
Isabella, in a panic, came storming in looking for him–and found us.
She flipped the chessboard and splashed a full cup of boiling tea across my hand.
“You pathetic little has–been,” she screamed, “you think he still cares about you?!”
That’s when Victor walked back in, holding a newly refilled space heater.
“Isabella, it’s the middle of the night. Why are you here?”
She forced a tight smile and rushed toward him.
“I was just…, worried about her health, sir.”
But the damage was done.
He’d heard everything.
“Worried?” he sneered.
“Worried about my ex–wife?”
Isabella dropped to her knees, trembling.
“Please! I swear! I didn’t mean–please, forgive me!”
I wrapped my burned hand in a towel and leaned gently into Victor’s side.
“Don’t be upset, dear. I’m fine. Just won’t be playing chess for a while.”
Isabella’s eyes brimmed with tears.
She opened her mouth to plead again.
But Victor kicked her across the room.
Ungrateful witch! You dare hurt her?}”
Strip her title. Break her fingers. Throw her out!”
Isabella stared at him in disbelief.
Just yesterday, he’d held her close and whispered sweet nothings.
Now he was tossing her out like trash.
I watched her cry and beg, and I felt nothing.
She always thought tears were a woman’s best weapon.
But she never understood–men fall hardest for the woman who never cries.
News of her fall spread through the residence like wildfire.
The power keys returned to my
hands.
By morning, every woman in the building came to greet me–fearfully, carefully.
It didn’t take much to remind them that Isabella was done.
Some, eager to impress, even started bullying her.
Slaps. Chores.
Kneeling outside in the cold.
And the staff?
Some already stopped calling her “ma’am.”
Meanwhile, Victor Lancaster’s health began to deteriorate.
The doctors were baffled. They couldn’t find the cause.
A month later, during a cabinet meeting, he collapsed.
The former First Lady–once a shadow of power behind the scenes stepped up again.
She appointed me as his constant aide.
Victor regained consciousness once, just briefly.
Pale, weak, nearly gone, he looked at me with pure venom.
“You… you witch… you did this….”
“This pregnancy… whose is it?! Who’s the bastard?!”
I laid a hand gently on my belly.
“This child is yours,” I whispered. “And it will be the next President.”
He struggled to lift his hand–then collapsed.
I pushed his arm aside and quietly pulled the blanket over him.
The next morning, he was gone.
The nation mourned.
Six months later, citing grief and exhaustion, the former First Lady withdrew from politics.
Chapter 9
She
endorsed me as her
successor
(became
the first
Woman
to hold
the
highest
office
in the
country,
And I will prove it to the world:
That
women are not lesser.
That We
can rule.
That
my daughter–and every
daughter after
her–can walk this same
path.
To
become greatness.
Το
become history.
To become the
mountain.
