Chapter 4: The Bargain

Rachel saw me and, for the first time, spoke at length.

Her voice was steady, almost gentle, more than all the words she’d ever said to me before.

"Emily, these walls devour people. I live every day in fear—afraid the food is poisoned, afraid at night, afraid even my clothes and jewelry are laced with something. I’m the favored First Lady; they all watch me, jealous."

Her confession tumbled out in a rush. I listened quietly, the distant echo of laughter from the Rose Garden barely reaching us.

But every dish you eat is checked and tasted by others first.

Every night, there are two Secret Service agents and two maids on duty. If an intruder comes, they’d take the hit first.

Even the toilet paper is high-end and guarded.

It sounded absurd, but in the White House, nothing was left to chance. Rachel continued to complain.

"The President says he loves only me, but look—he’s taken so many lovers, even married an official First Lady. What am I? What about all his past promises?"

Yet your favor never faded. No matter how you acted out, the President always spoiled you.

When he was angry, he punished us staff; when furious, he’d fire one or two, but never let you be harmed.

In the end, Rachel grew more and more aggrieved, crying until she nearly fainted.

Her body shook with each sob. "Emily, all this wealth and glory is empty. If I could be with my true love, what harm would eating fast food do?"

Her voice caught on the word ‘love.’ "If I could live again, I’d rather be a little White House maid, marry an ordinary man, and spend my life with him."

She reached for my hand, her grip frantic. "Would you switch with me, Emily?"

At last, I came to my senses.

My mind was full of the words I’d overheard: "Tommy," "leave"—none of it made sense.

I gripped Rachel’s hand tightly, playing the loyal maid as best I could.

"Ma’am, I’m willing. My life is yours. If it will make you happy, I will give you anything."

I meant every word, but a part of me wondered if she’d ever truly see me. Night fell. The little maid outside climbed a ladder to light the hallway sconces, and the Secret Service agent on night duty sat beneath the corridor, hugging his coat.

The glow of the antique lamps cast long shadows down the hall. The other staff returned to their rooms, cowering and praying Rachel would eat something tomorrow.

Rachel closed her eyes and smiled.

Her lips curled into a bittersweet smile. "At last—I can finally leave this man-eating mansion."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy as the darkness settling over Pennsylvania Avenue.