Chapter 7: New Rules, Old Games

Rachel offended Deborah as soon as she entered the White House, so her green badge was revoked for a month.

Losing that badge meant no access to the private gardens or the family kitchen—a small exile, but a pointed one. According to Rachel, this was deliberate—the harder to get, the more cherished.

I used this month to study furiously.

I locked myself in the library, devouring books on politics, etiquette, and the tangled history of the First Family. My fingers traced the spines of books most staff never touched, the hush broken only by the distant echo of laughter from the Rose Garden. In my previous life, I only got to copy books in her handwriting when I was punished for her, learning a little that way.

Now, with such a good opportunity, I devoured every book Rachel kept for show.

From Emily Post to Doris Kearns Goodwin, I read until my eyes burned. So, on the night in the presidential bedroom, when the President recited, "Beauty needs no makeup, nature makes them shine," I didn’t ask who wrote it, as Rachel had, but instead blushed and reached for the President’s tie.

His eyes widened, and for the first time, he looked at me as if I was someone entirely new. "We’re both young—let’s not waste this good time."

The President couldn’t resist, scooping me up and pressing me into the bed.

The sheets were cool against my skin, while the distant wail of a siren drifted through the open window—a reminder that D.C. never really slept.

No one knew how much, as a lowly maid, I had admired the President.

I longed for his supreme favor, limitless power, and dreamed every day of sitting proudly in the motorcade.

I even fantasized about being favored, with Rachel washing my feet.

When I woke, I’d slap myself twice, forcing my smile away again and again.

But today, the President sleeps in my bed, undoing my nightgown.

Years of dark fantasies, come true in a dream.

How could I not seize the chance to climb upward?

My heart raced with both fear and hope.