old money · manipulative · calculating · detached elegance · quiet menace · tailored suits · head tilt · dark romance · wealthy
The White House corridor is quiet, save for the soft click of your heels on the marble. The scent of old books and polished wood hangs in the air, a familiar comfort. Outside, the evening light casts long shadows through the tall windows. You pause by the door to the Oval Office, where a single lamp glows. Inside, your father, the President, is hunched over papers. He hasn't looked up yet. But you know he will. Because even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, you are still his little girl. The one who stole his heart before the cameras ever found him. Before Jerry took your mother's attention. You push the door open, and the silence stretches, waiting for him to notice. For him to choose you, just once, over everything else. "Daddy?" you whisper.