Page 118 of Dignity

I slowly shake my head, now feeling exhausted and wanting to get back to work. “I think I’m talking to a scared old man who finally realizes a lifetime of treating people like shit, including his own son, will soon come back to haunt him in a horrible and lonely kind of way.”

I turn and head for the front door, opening it. “Goodbye, Dad. I love you, but Idamn sure don’t like you.”

Before my admittedly late revelation, the glare on his face would have sent me skittering for cover.

Now?

I feel…sad. Sad, because right or wrong, part of the reason I fell in love with Christopher in the first place is that he filled a need within my soul for unconditional love. And sad because my father will never change. Not at this point in his life. If anything,he’ll dig in deeper and drive away even his most stubbornly stalwart allies.

He’s already driven me away.

My dad starts for the open door but draws up short next to me and stares me in the eyes.

I don’t cower, don’t blink.

He sneers. “I willdestroythat woman and everyone she loves.”

This time when I laugh it’s in his face and deliberately. “Get out, Dad. Before you twirl an imaginary mustacheor something. It’s pathetic, seriously. Not even DC’s most experienced paid escort could keep a straight face overthat.”

After he storms through the door and down the steps to his awaiting car, I poke my head out and signal to one of the Secret Service agents.

He doesn’t even look at my dad as he hurries up the walk and passes him on the way.

Once the agent steps inside, I drop my voice. “RemoveCongressman Markos from the access list.Permanently. If he wants to see President Samuels once she’s in the White House, or me, he’ll have to make an appointment with our offices and go through screening channels like everyone else. But he doesnotwalk up to this door again.”

I’m tempted to add the phraseshoot to killto that, except I don’t know this agent well yet, and I don’t know if he’dappreciate my dark humor.

Chris would laugh though. So would Shae.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

“Thank you.”

The agent heads back out.

I close the door behind him and lean against it after locking it.

This is a day I honestly never thought would come.

Not telling my father off—that’s something I’ve dreamed about doing for most of my life.

I never expected I’d ever feel this level ofpeace.

ConsideringI’m the incoming White House chief of staff, peace is something that will be fleeting and rare over the next four to eight years.

Doubly especially when I’ll be sharing the president’s bed with her husband.

As I turn and head back down the hall, a thought hits me that I hadn’t consciously processed until this moment…

I haven’t had a single migraine since my meltdown.

I don’t know what to makeof that, except maybe I’ve finally started living the way I’m supposed to—for myself, and outside the shadow of my father.

The End