Chapter 4: Rumors and Retribution

The president had insisted on summoning Prince Julian’s beautiful wife, Lady Savannah, to the White House. Yet after leaving her waiting in a side room for half an hour, he sent her back to Julian’s residence, belongings and all. The news spread through the West Wing like wildfire.

The Washington rumor mill spun faster than ever. Staffers whispered in hallways, aides traded texts under the table, and even the cleaning crew swapped theories while emptying trash cans. The tension was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

The First Ladies, usually sharp-tongued and ready for political intrigue, were speechless.

They exchanged tight-lipped glances over their morning coffee, their usual chess games abandoned for frantic phone calls and CNN coverage.

The princes, hoping to see Julian embarrassed, were left in shock.

They gathered in the family quarters, silent for once, bravado drained from their faces. Even the youngest, usually glued to Twitter, looked up in confusion.

The cabinet members, poised to risk their careers protesting this breach of ethics, were outraged.

Some drafted resignation letters, others rehearsed speeches about moral standards and the sanctity of family. For now, everyone just waited to see what would happen next.

Inside and outside the White House, rumors flew, yet everyone spoke with one voice:

Has the President lost his mind?

The gossip spread and spread, trending on social media and dominating group texts. Eventually, it reached Harrison’s ears.

Harrison: "Absurd."

He snorted, flipping through a stack of intelligence briefings. The sheer ridiculousness was almost laughable. He’d survived Watergate-level scandals and election-night upsets; just another Tuesday in D.C.

For the sake of the country, he’d fired more staffers than most people hired. Now, he wanted to be a good father.

He remembered the old days—late nights in the Situation Room, quiet pride seeing his children succeed. Maybe this time, he’d try a softer approach.

As for these outrageous rumors, Harrison refused to believe or spread them. He chose to ignore the circus.

He reached for his coffee, the bitter taste grounding him. Bills to sign, crises to manage, allies to reassure. Gossip was for amateurs.

But things did not go as he wished. While Harrison tried to let the matter cool down, someone was secretly fanning the flames.

Every news channel had a new theory. Anonymous sources popped up like weeds, and social media was ablaze with hashtags. Harrison knew the game—someone was pulling strings behind the scenes.

After Harrison spent three days cleaning up Sebastian’s mess, stories of the president and Lady Savannah’s passionate romance spread throughout Washington, D.C.

He scanned the headlines, each more lurid than the last. The phone rang off the hook, aides scrambling to draft statements. It was chaos, pure and simple.

Harrison: Damn it, there are always traitors trying to bring me down!

He slammed his fist on the desk, the echo reverberating through the room. He’d dealt with backstabbers before, but this was a new low.

"Gabe Lewis!"

Gabe, who had been sent to stand guard outside the office, finally saw the president again after several anxious days.

He entered, eyes wide, posture rigid. The tension was so thick, Gabe nearly tripped over his own feet as he approached the desk.

Harrison blocked out Gabe’s attempts to reconcile, and with a fiery tone issued an order: "Find out who’s behind these rumors—dig deep and report back."

He stared Gabe down, voice cold and steady. The message was clear—failure was not an option.

Gabe hesitated, looked at Harrison, and finally bowed his head under Harrison’s urging gaze, replying, "Yes, sir."

Gabe’s hands shook as he retreated, the weight of the assignment heavy on his shoulders. He knew this was a test—and that Harrison was watching every move.