Chapter 5: A Borrowed Peace

Charles Long finally relented. Daniel Young could marry me, but only as a secondary wife—no fanfare, no headlines, just a small note in the society pages. Three days later, I was to move into the vice president’s residence.

Daniel insisted on supporting me as we left the West Wing. His face was pale, jaw clenched in pain, but his touch was gentle. For a moment, guilt pricked at me—he’d risked everything for a woman he barely knew.

But it didn’t last. He was Charles Long’s son—the enemy’s blood. My vengeance mattered more.

At the gates, my sister was waiting, face drawn with worry. She must’ve tried to get in, only to be turned away. She stood there clutching a crumpled tissue, eyes searching for me.

When she saw me, she nearly broke down in relief.

“Anna, did he hurt you?”

She grabbed my hands, turning them over, checking for injuries. Only when she saw I was whole did she breathe again. Then she looked at Daniel Young.

“Mr. Vice President.”

She spoke carefully, respectfully.

Daniel gave her a gentle smile. “Lady Rachel, you don’t need to be so formal.”

He seemed to sense her fear, his voice steady and kind.

“Please don’t worry. The president has given Anna to me. She’s only a secondary wife, but I’ll treat her well.”

Rachel stared at me, stunned. The truth hit her all at once.

She pulled me away in silence, grip fierce, nearly dragging me back to her rooms.

“Rachel, slow down…”

I stumbled after her, breathless, until we reached her door.

She slapped me hard across the face.

The room went dead quiet, just the two of us and the echo of her hand on my cheek.

“Anna Thompson, kneel.”

My heart dropped. I fell to my knees, reaching for her hand, my cheek burning.

“Sister, you saved me. Hit me all you want.”

She glared, teeth clenched, too angry to speak. But she couldn’t bring herself to hit me again. Her anger broke into tears as she knelt beside me, stroking my cheek.

“I’m sorry, Anna. I was just so angry.”

I shook my head, voice small. “It’s okay, Rachel.”

She hugged me, her sobs muffled in my hair.

“Anna, tell me—what are you trying to do?”

I went stiff. I couldn’t lie anymore. My choices had torn apart the life she wanted for me. But I had no choice. My path was set, straight into the fire.

I let her down. But I had to.

No matter how much Rachel objected, three days later I stood in her drawing room in a pale pink wedding dress, the fabric soft and strange against my skin. The car outside gleamed in the D.C. sun.

Even angry, Rachel wanted to protect me. She pressed a velvet pouch into my hand, heavy with the money she’d scraped together, a makeshift dowry.

“Anna.”

As I was about to get into the car, she called my name, voice trembling. She leaned in close, breath warm against my ear.

“Promise me you’ll never do anything dangerous again, okay?”

Her eyes were wet, pleading.

“You know you’re all I have in this world.”

My own eyes burned. I nodded, swallowing the lie for her sake.

I pressed my forehead to the cool window, watching cherry blossoms swirl past like confetti. Somewhere, a siren wailed—a reminder that peace here was always borrowed.

The car rolled through the city, and I drifted in and out of sleep, the scent of blossoms mingling with the hum of tires on asphalt.

Somewhere in that half-dream, I heard my name—

“Anna Thompson?”

I frowned. Only my family called me that. I’d always thought my name plain next to Rachel’s, but names stick—Dad, Mom, Rachel, always Anna.

Later, I learned my name meant grace, favor, a wish for peace in chaos. But peace felt like a cruel joke.

Hearing someone call me Anna now, I felt the ache of everything I’d lost.

The car door opened. Daniel Young stood there in a bright red tuxedo—eyes kind, smile tight with effort, a dignity beyond his years.

He leaned down, voice gentle. “Why did you fall asleep?”

A gust of chilly spring air swept in, raising goosebumps. Daniel slipped off his jacket, draping it around my shoulders.

“Bring a coat for Anna,” he told an attendant.

With the extra warmth, I stopped shivering. Daniel eyed my dress, brow furrowed.

“Take Anna to change into the red wedding dress.”

My heart raced, panic scraping at my chest.

“Mr. Vice President, that’s against the rules…”

If I walked in wearing red—a color for the primary wife—rumors would fly. It’d only make things harder for Rachel.

Daniel saw the fear in my eyes and sighed, tired.

“Never mind.”

He took my arm and led me into the hushed house.

Inside, the residence was draped in silk, windows lined with wedding banners, a crimson carpet stretching down the hall. The air shimmered with roses and anticipation.

Daniel squeezed my hand, steady and sure.

“Anna, come and stand with me.”

I took his hand, heart pounding, not sure if I was walking into a new life—or straight into the lion’s den.