Chapter 3: Endgames and New Beginnings

During the spring retreat, the new President finally remembered me—the failed contender—and invited me to the family estate.

When it was time to depart, a young staffer came to summon me.

By the limo, I heard laughter inside.

The new President acted playfully. "I just made a wrong move—I won’t play this one."

Lucas’s voice followed. "Mr. President, once you make your move, there’s no taking it back."

"So what if I regret it?"

Lucas sighed, patient. "Doesn’t matter. You’re the President. Whatever you do is right."

The new President laughed, then started coughing.

The young staffer quietly announced me.

I kept my eyes lowered and boarded the limo, not daring to look up, kneeling and bowing my head. "Sloane reporting, sir. Wishing you all the best."

The limo fell silent for a moment.

Another bout of coughing, then the new President’s gentle voice: "It’s only been a few days, and you’re already so obedient. In the end, you’ve grown distant from me."

I kept my gaze down. "I wouldn’t dare."

The new President seemed displeased. "Don’t kneel. Get up."

I rose obediently.

Leather seats creaked under me, the scent of new car and old money thick in the air. I saw Lucas holding a small bowl, stirring a bowl of warm apple crisp, steam curling up between them, waiting for it to cool before handing it to the new President. "Drink."

Gentleness and care were not lacking—just never shown to me.

The one Lucas cared for, from beginning to end, was Henry.

Even the presidency was won for Henry by Lucas.

Once, my father’s favorite was me, but in the end, he appointed Henry.

The official letter was delivered by Lucas.

I didn’t believe it, nor did the cabinet.

But Lucas overruled everyone, fired several dissenters, and forced Henry into the Oval Office.

He knew how much I wanted to be President.

He knew how much my mother and I had sacrificed for that seat.

He knew that between Henry and me, only one could survive.

He knew everything.

But he still chose Henry.

In truth, Lucas always chose Henry.

It was my own foolishness to think I could compete.

Only after my fall did I realize—what was never mine could never be taken.

Now that I’ve lost everything, I accept it.

I am a Sloane—what staffer could I not have?

Is it really worth grieving over a man like Lucas?

---

When Henry played chess with me, he said I was no longer young and wanted to arrange a marriage for me.

I was terrified, yet grateful, and thanked him for his great favor.

Lucas lowered his eyes, turning the prayer beads on his wrist, silent.

That afternoon, Henry sent me portraits of eligible women. I examined them one by one in the limo.

They were carefully chosen—daughters of former Henry supporters, now loyal officials and generals.

Henry wanted to use marriage to bind me to his side.

He feared his presidency was not secure.

In my eyes, Henry was too soft-hearted, too concerned with his reputation, and too slow to deal with me.

If I had taken office, I would have had him removed on day one.

When Lucas arrived, I had already picked out two.

He picked up the thin sheets, examining them closely.

"The oldest daughter of the Carter family practices martial arts—she’s fierce. You can’t handle her."

"As for the Thompson girl..." Lucas held the paper over the candle, "she’s frail and sickly, not a good match."

Both portraits were burned.

I wasn’t angry. Henry had sent a thick stack—there would always be one to choose.

Propping up my head, I pulled out another. "Melissa Grant—her family is clean, her temperament is good, and she’s adorable."

I suddenly remembered the girl, and smiled as I looked at the portrait. "I’ve seen her before—small and round, like a rabbit. Why did the artist make her look so awkward?"

Lucas said, "Melissa just got engaged a few days ago."

I frowned. "How come I didn’t know?"

Lucas snatched the paper from my hand. "If I say she’s engaged, then she’s engaged."

He slowly crumpled it into a ball, his tone flat. "I’ll report to the President that you found none to your liking."

I was displeased. "But I do have one."

Lucas suddenly looked over, his gaze dark. "You want to get married?"

I sneered. "Why not?"

Lucas smiled, raising his hand to cup my face. "If I have you on our wedding night, where will the bride go?"

"Lucas. You wouldn’t dare."

"Do you really think I wouldn’t?" Lucas smiled, but there was a calm madness in his eyes.

"With me here, you still want someone else?"

Lucas’s touch made my waist go weak, and I clung tightly to his sleeve.

He lifted my face, his lips brushing mine. "Can anyone else make you feel this good?"

"Will anyone serve you better than me?"

A shiver ran up my spine—equal parts longing and dread—while outside, the American flag snapped in the wind atop the White House. As the flag snapped overhead, I realized—no one in this city knew what I’d just given up, or what Lucas was about to take next.