Chapter 3: The Summons That Changes Everything

I shook my head.

I forced a smile, trying to reassure her. “It’s nothing, Maria. Just got a little dizzy, that’s all.” Still, I wasn’t sure I believed it myself.

Looking up, I saw a wisp of steam from a coffee mug drift away, vanishing into the vast indigo sky.

The smell of roasted beans lingered in the air, warm and bittersweet. It reminded me of home, of lazy Sunday mornings and laughter echoing down the hall. For a second, I let myself remember.

After a long time, I muttered:

“It’s nothing. At least, the things I wanted to do, he’s doing them for me.”

My voice was soft, almost a whisper. I watched the steam fade, feeling the ache of everything I’d lost. Sometimes, the ache was all I had.

“Even if he’s not that person, at least…”

I hesitated, searching for the right words. “At least I know I’m not alone. Someone else remembers where we came from.”

“My path isn’t lonely.”

For the first time in a long while, I let myself believe it. Maybe I wasn’t as lost as I thought. Maybe.

The next day, I was still asleep when Maria hurriedly woke me, whispering:

She shook my shoulder gently, her voice urgent. “Miss Lillian, wake up! The Senator is here. He’s waiting downstairs.”

I groaned, rolling over, but Maria was relentless. She pulled the covers back, coaxing me upright. There was no escape.

I frowned and let Maria help me get dressed and fix my hair.

She fussed over every detail, smoothing my dress, pinning back stray hairs. Her hands were gentle, but her eyes were full of worry. I tried not to meet her gaze.

After a while, Sebastian arrived.

He swept into the room like a storm, his presence filling every corner. The air grew tense, charged with unspoken words. I braced myself.

He wore a deep red suit, as noble and aloof as ever.

The color suited him—bold, commanding. He looked every bit the senator, but his eyes were cold, distant. I felt small just looking at him.

Maybe the air freshener was too strong, because when he saw me, he frowned, a complex look in his eyes.

He hesitated, as if unsure what to say. For a moment, I thought I saw regret, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Back to business as usual.

I bowed and greeted him softly:

“Good morning, Senator.”

My voice was even, practiced. I’d learned how to play my part well. It was second nature by now.

He was about to speak, but a White House aide hurried in behind him, carrying a gilded envelope and announcing loudly:

The aide’s shoes clicked on the marble floor, echoing through the hall. He held the envelope like it was a bomb about to go off. I tensed, expecting the worst.

“The President has issued an order, summoning Miss Lillian of the Whitmore estate to the White House for a private meeting.”

His words rang out, sharp and final. The room went still, everyone frozen in place. Even the air felt heavy.

At these words, even Sebastian was stunned, his face full of doubt.

He blinked, mouth opening and closing, searching for an explanation. It was the first time I’d ever seen him truly caught off guard. For once, he didn’t have an answer.

“Aide, is there a mistake? She and the President have never met—why would he summon her?”

His voice was tight, defensive. I could see the panic rising behind his eyes. He was losing control, and he knew it.

The aide only replied coldly:

“The President’s orders are not to be questioned. Senator, Mrs. Whitmore, please acknowledge receipt.”

He handed over the envelope, his expression unreadable. There was no room for argument. That was that.

Before leaving, Sebastian finally couldn’t hold back.

He reached for me, his hand trembling slightly. “Lillian, wait—”

He looked a bit troubled, but took my hand and spoke gently:

“The President’s changed a lot lately. He’s fired a lot of the old guard.”

He squeezed my fingers, his voice low. “Be careful. He’s not the man he used to be.”

“This summons is probably just to use you to threaten the Whitmore family.”

He leaned in, his breath warm on my cheek. “Don’t trust him. He’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants.”

“Don’t be afraid. If it were something serious, he wouldn’t just summon someone like you.”

He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be here when you get back. I promise.” Maybe he meant it. Maybe not.

I calmly withdrew my hand and said indifferently:

“Senator, don’t worry.”

My tone was cool, detached. I’d learned not to expect anything from him. That was safer.

But Sebastian was still uneasy, pulling me into his arms.

He hugged me tightly, as if he could protect me from the world. But I knew better. His embrace was just another cage. I barely felt it.

“Don’t be scared. I’ll protect you.”

The words sounded hollow, empty. I didn’t believe them, and I don’t think he did either. It was just something to say.

I sneered inwardly but said nothing.

I kept my face blank, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Inside, I was screaming.

I bowed and left.

My footsteps echoed down the hall, each one a small act of defiance. I wouldn’t look back. Not this time.

Passing by Mrs. Whitmore, she only glanced at me.

Her eyes were cold, calculating. She didn’t need to speak—her meaning was clear. Stay in your place.

That glance, though, was full of meaning.

It was a warning, a threat, and a promise all at once. I met her gaze, refusing to flinch. Not today.

Her tone was cold, but her words were strange:

“The White House is full of beautiful women. Do you really think a mistress from the Whitmore family will have it easy after going there?”

She smiled, lips thin and cruel. “You’re nothing special, Lillian. Don’t forget that.” I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to let her see me break.

I was a bit helpless, realizing I really couldn’t fit into the world of these people.

No matter how hard I tried, I’d always be an outsider. Their world was built on secrets and lies, and I was just another pawn. That was the truth.

I gave her a faint nod, then turned and left without looking back.

I straightened my shoulders, chin held high. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not ever.

Before entering the White House, I’d imagined countless times what meeting the President would be like.

I pictured grand halls, whispered conversations, the weight of history pressing down on me. But nothing could have prepared me for the reality. It was nothing like the stories.

But when I actually stepped into the West Wing, I was still stunned.

The halls were quieter than I expected, the air heavy with secrets. Every step felt like it echoed through the ages. I felt small, out of place.

Your sense of smell is often faster than your mind.

Before I could process anything else, the scent hit me—warm, familiar, almost comforting. For a second, I was back in college.

I tilted my head, trying to recall the familiar scent in the air—

It seemed to be pizza.

Of all things, the White House smelled like a college dorm on a Friday night. I almost laughed. What a world.

But even faster than my senses was the habit that had been etched into my bones over time.

I stood up straight, hands clasped in front of me, every muscle tense. Old habits die hard, especially when you’ve spent years trying to stay invisible. I felt the old fear creeping in.

No one told me to stand, but I was already standing respectfully.

It was automatic—head bowed, eyes downcast. I’d learned my place, and I wasn’t about to forget it now. No mistakes.