Chapter 1
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places (including the White House), and events are entirely fictional.any resemblance to real people or events is completely coincidental
The silver-framed photos lining the hallway of the residential quarters were an elaborate lie.
In one..
Julian Vance was laughing at a campaign rally. his sleeve rolled up looking like the kind of leader who could carry the weight of a nation without breaking a sweat. In another, he was kissing Clara's cheek under a canopy of autumn leaves the perfect husband.
The public adored him because he was the youngest president in the country's history.
A man whose face on a magazine cover stood for absolute integrity.
Clara stared at that photo now and tried to remember what his skin felt like back then, Warm and Real.
Now. every time Julian touched her it felt like a calculated move. A perfectly prepared gesture meant for a camera that might or might not be hiding in the molding of the ceiling. The historic mansion wasn't a home anymore.
it was a gold-leafed cage where even the silence felt monitored.
She looked down at her hands they were shaking so violently that the tea in her mug sloshed against the porcelain... leaving a dark stain near the rim.
She didn't put the mug down. If she did she'll have nothing to hold onto and right now she felt like the ground beneath her feet was dissolving.
For weeks
a quiet persistent instinct had been screaming in the back of her mind. The Secret Service agents seemed a little too quiet. The encrypted calls Julian took in the dead of night were lasting a little too long.
Then came the sound. It wasn't a loud crash but a frantic uneven shuffling from down the corridor.
Leo's bedroom door open. ....Her twenty year. old son didn't just walk out he practically stumbled into the hallway with his shoulder hitting the wooden doorframe with a dull thud, His skin was the color of curdled milk. His eyes were wide -bloodshot- and fixed entirely on the matte-black flash drive clenched so tightly in his fist that his knuckles were stark white.
"Mom-- he breathed out. It wasn't a whisper .it was a desperate wheezing gasp
the sound of someone who had forgotten how to draw oxygen into his lungs. We have to go. We need to get the keys. We need to get to the car right now. --he said with kind of heavy breathe
Clara dropped the mug --(crash sound of cup )
It shattered on the hardwood. hot liquid pooling around her bare feet but she didn't even flinch. She grabbed Leo by his arms. her fingers digging into his sweatshirt.
Leo, look at me. What did you do? What did you find on that server? ---- Clara asked as she already knew about this.
It's him--- Leo choked out
a tear finally spilling over his lower eyelid cutting a clean path through the sweat on his cheek.
The foreign policy leaks from last month... the dissenters who went missing... Mom it wasn't a rogue intelligence agency. It's a closed network. It's routed directly through Dad's personal terminal. He's authorizing all of it--- Leo said in one go ...
The air in Clara's lungs turned to ice. She wanted to tell him he was wrong
She wanted to scream at him for playing hacker in a house where every single keystroke was tracked. But the sheer
unadulterated terror in her son's eyes told her everything she needed to know.
The man she slept next to wasn't a protector. He was a monster with a mandate.
Give it to me ----Clara whispered, her voice hardening as her survival instincts kicked in. She reached for the drive. Give me the------
I'm afraid I can't let you do that------Leo.
The voice came from the dark stretch of the hallway near the service stairs.
Agent Marcus Cross stepped into the dim light. He didn't look like a bodyguard anymore. he looked like an executioner. His massive frame seemed to swallow the entire width of the corridor. His hands were clasped loosely in front of him.
but his posture was coiled, ready to spring. The coiled acoustic earpiece pressed into his neck hummed with a low, rhythmic static.
Clara stepped in front of Leo, her heart battering against her ribs like a trapped bird. ------Marcus. Step back. My son is having a medical emergency. I'm taking him downstairs.
Marcus didn't blink. He didn't show anger, or pity, or hesitation. His face was just a blank, terrifying slate of obedience ------The medical unit hasn't been cleared for you tonight Mrs. Vance
The President is currently waiting in the secure bunker downstairs. He was very specific. He wants the drive, he wants Leo's laptop, and he wants both of you. Now.--- Marcus said following his boss orders
And if we refuse? -----Clara demanded her voice cracking, betraying the panic screaming inside her head.
Marcus didn't answer with words. He slowly shifted his weight, his right hand moving just an inch to the side, clearing the fabric of his jacket to expose the heavy, matte-black grip of his service weapon.
The threat was silent, professional and absolute.
From the earpiece around Marcus's neck, a sharp burst of static cut through the suffocating quiet. The volume was turned up just high enough for Clara to hear the voice on the other end.... It was Julian.... But the warm melodic tone that had charmed millions of voters was entirely gone. It was replaced by a flat __dead drone that made Clara's skin crawl.
Marcus_ Why are they still upstairs? Bring them down. If my son resists you have my full authorization to use whatever measures necessary to secure the drive. Do it now.....
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First chapter is live! Let me know what you think in the comment, and don't forget to like
