One Night With The President

The inside of the Lincoln Navigator was dead silent. The engine was a barely perceptible hum beneath the heavy floorboards.

Eloisa sat stiffly on the leather seat. She clutched her backpack tightly against her chest, inside the front pocket was the plastic pregnancy test. It felt like it was burning a hole through the canvas.

She turned her head to look out the window, but the dark tint turned the passing streets into a murky, unrecognizable blur.

She looked at the older man sitting across from her.

"Where are we going?" Eloisa asked. Her voice shook. "This is kidnapping."

Mr. Pembroke did not blink. He kept his hands folded neatly in his lap. "Rest assured, Miss Williams, you are perfectly safe. We are simply going to a location where we can have a quiet conversation."

Eloisa pulled her phone out of her pocket. She tapped the screen.

No Service.

Her stomach dropped. There was a signal jammer in the car, she was completely cut off from the world. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck.

The car drove for what felt like an hour. Finally, it slowed down. Eloisa heard the heavy metallic clank of iron gates opening, the SUV rolled onto a smooth, gravel driveway.

Through the tinted glass, she saw the sparkling water of the Potomac River in the distance. They were in the most exclusive, heavily guarded neighborhood in Washington D.C.

The car stopped in front of a massive, stone mansion, it looked like a museum.

Mr. Pembroke opened the door for her. "Welcome to the Wilkinson estate."

Eloisa stepped out. The sheer size of the property made her feel incredibly small. A massive stone fountain roared in the center of a perfectly manicured lawn.

Mr. Pembroke led her up the stone steps and pushed open the heavy oak doors.

They stepped into a foyer with gleaming marble floors. The ceiling was so high it made Eloisa dizzy.

In the center of the grand living room, sitting on a velvet sofa, was an elderly woman. She wore an elegant, tailored tweed suit, her silver hair was styled flawlessly. She held a delicate porcelain teacup in her hands.

Her eyes locked onto Eloisa. They were sharp, calculating, and cold as ice. Eloisa felt like a piece of meat being weighed on a scale.

Mr. Pembroke bowed. "Madam, Miss Williams has arrived."

The woman set her teacup down on a silver tray. The clink of the porcelain echoed in the massive room.

"Sit down, child," her voice was quiet, but it carried absolute authority.

Eloisa walked forward. Her legs felt like lead. She sat on the edge of the sofa opposite the woman. The cushions were so soft she felt like she was sinking into quicksand.

The woman did not waste time.

"I know you are pregnant."

The blood in Eloisa's veins turned to ice. Her mouth fell open.

"How..." Eloisa choked on the word. "How do you know that?"

The woman smiled, but the smile did not reach her eyes. "I am Eleonora Wilkinson. I know far more than that. My grandson's security detail reported the... incident at the party. We have been monitoring your situation since. Your appointment at the clinic merely confirmed our suspicions. I also know that the child growing inside your stomach is my great-grandson."

Eloisa felt like she had been struck by lightning. Her hands gripped the fabric of her jeans.

"No," Eloisa shook her head frantically. "No, that's impossible. You have the wrong person. I don't even know..."

Eleonora cut her off. "A month ago. A graduation party near Georgetown University. You drank too much."

Eleonora recited the details with surgical precision. Eloisa's face grew paler with every word.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Eloisa lied, her voice cracking. "I don't know your grandson!"

Eleonora's eyes softened into a look of cold pity. "Of course you don't. You probably don't even remember his face."

Eleonora raised two fingers. Mr. Pembroke stepped forward and handed Eleonora a sleek black tablet.

Eleonora slid the tablet across the glass coffee table.

Eloisa looked down. A video was playing. It was security camera footage, grainy and dark. But she could clearly see the corner of the frat house patio. She saw herself, stumbling, barely able to stand.

And she saw the man.

He was tall. He wore a dark shirt. His back was to the camera, but he caught her as she fell. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist and guided her away from the crowd, toward the guest rooms.

"My grandson attended that party briefly," Eleonora said, her voice drifting over the footage. "He despises those events. He left early. But clearly, before he left, an... incident occurred."

Eloisa stared at the screen. The blank space in her memory violently ripped open.

The smell of cedarwood. The weight of his hand. The deep, dark eyes.

It wasn't a dream. It was real.