Chapter 9: Iron Lady of the Plains

By candlelight, I burned the letter. The flame flickered, blowing the ash away.

I watched the paper curl and blacken, the smoke rising in the still air. One more tie to the past, gone.

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Another year of spring flowers, Henry suddenly visited. After inviting me to travel outside the city, I agreed. I told him my cousin from my grandmother’s family was visiting and wanted to bring her along.

His eyes lit up. “Is it that cousin from the Brooks family?”

I nodded. Brooke, receiving my message, hurried over—charming and gentle, delicate and refined. Dressed up, not only did the Third Son, but even I couldn’t look away.

After serving tea and snacks, she teased us with a smile. Brooke wore a light pink dress, the hem sparkling. Her eyes smiled, her voice soft as water from the South. Still childish, lively and likable, she soon chatted happily with Henry.

I sipped tea, savoring the fragrance. Top grade Darjeeling, expensive clothes and jewelry, delicate features—the daughter of the richest merchant, enough to move Henry’s heart.

After a while, Henry realized he had ignored me and hurried to check on me. Brooke covered her mouth and laughed, “Henry is really nervous about sis—makes me jealous. I hope my future husband will be as devoted as Henry.” She emphasized the word ‘devoted’ as if truly moved.

I pretended to be jealous. “Brooke can’t steal from sis.”

Such bold words were not surprising for us—a merchant’s daughter and a general’s daughter.

Henry was obviously pleased but tried to hide it. “My whole life, I love only Audrey.” He blushed.

After Henry left, Brooke stroked her red nails, leaned on the door frame. “Cousin, after tomorrow, he’ll be mine.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Bear with it—he’s good-looking.” My cousin valued beauty.

Brooke nodded, licking her lips. “Indeed, not bad. I heard his mother was a rare beauty—pity, beauty withered in the White House.”

The magnolia in the yard swayed, scattering bright moonlight. I looked up at the white columns and green lawns. Next time, I will be the master—I will not let beauty be trapped in the palace.

I pictured myself on those steps, the world at my feet, and vowed never to be caged again.

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The Third Son’s fiancée disappeared, causing an uproar in the press. Henry knew the truth; my father, Robert Hayes, even informed him. That day, he held my face, wept, and told me to soar like a phoenix, not wanting me trapped in the White House. For a moment, I wondered if he knew my journey would be one of life and death.

All those days and nights together flashed before my eyes, the seasons in D.C. we shared, fleeting as water. I have to admit—Henry, though never taught the arts of leadership, was a superb actor. If I hadn’t planted spies by his side, who reported his secret deeds—drunkenly mocking me as a coarse general’s daughter, rough as a man, disgusting; secretly contacting elite girls, exchanging DMs—I might have believed him.

I looked at Brooke’s worried gaze as she saw me off, waiting in D.C. for my return. I smoothed her frown and smiled, “Cousin will definitely come back.”

After I left, I did not know what happened in D.C. Henry would be punished; Brooke and Victoria, close to me, would have to deal with it. Brooke had Henry to shield her. Victoria, restored to her status, was greatly favored; her mother and the First Lady would protect her.

On the way, protected by Brooks family security, I faced constant assassinations and poisonings. Three months later, I appeared before Robert Hayes, wounded all over. He could not hide his shock.

I slowly smiled, dazzling in the desert sun. His face flashed with deep ferocity and panic. Behind him stood a young man, two or three years older than me, somewhat resembling Robert Hayes. My eyes darkened as I glanced at him, then at my engineer, holding a feather fan, looking like a magician, smiling. Old man, so many assassins—couldn’t you have stopped them?

I said, “Dad, your daughter is back.”

Robert Hayes suddenly shivered, as if stared at by a wolf. He forced himself to glare back, but found my gaze had already moved on. A wave of resentment surged—he thought viciously, even if you are noble, you are just an abandoned daughter.