Chapter 4: Family, Fencing, and Foreign Intrigue

After several more days of bickering, it was finally settled:

The sixth President of the United States, John Shepard, served for thirty years, brought peace and prosperity, the people lived in harmony. Legacy: President of Steadfast Light.

Ordinary. Not good, not bad.

Curtis still wanted to fight for a better legacy for me, but I stopped him.

“I dreamed of the late President yesterday. He said he was very satisfied with this legacy.”

It’s just a title. Not worth the effort.

Mentioning the late President, Curtis immediately burst into tears. “Mr. President, the late President suffered so much.”

Here we go again.

He’s been repeating this a lot lately.

I looked up at the sky. I never felt my life was particularly bitter—just died a bit young.

Is old Curtis getting sentimental with age? Where’s the sharp tongue he used to have when arguing with me?

There was a time he could filibuster for hours. Now he seems ready to write sonnets about my tragic fate.

“The late President said he didn’t suffer.”

Seeing he was still wiping tears, I frowned.

“If this goes on, Chief, you won’t have time for state affairs.”

Sensing my change in tone, Curtis finally pulled himself together.

“Old friend lost composure. Please forgive me, Mr. President. I will not fail the late President’s trust.”

Watching Curtis’s slightly stumbling figure, I hesitated, but still softened and decided to give him a few more days off.

Hmm, three days, no more.

Old fellow, hang in there.

America needs you now.

Curtis basically watched me grow up.

Before I took office, he was already Chief of Staff—the youngest ever.

Famous from a young age, brilliant, helped the late President achieve great things.

Before the late President died, he personally entrusted me to him.

When I decided to attack the Western Alliance, he strongly opposed, but I wouldn’t listen and insisted on going south.

Halfway through, I actually regretted it.

Then Curtis insisted, “What’s done is done, we must break before we can stand.”

After Willow Creek, the nation’s strength was halved.

I was in a slump, Curtis worked tirelessly, managed the situation, and took time to console me.

Bit by bit, he taught me how to be a good President.

In my eyes, he was never as fragile and sentimental as now.

So, when I died, I wasn’t worried at all.

With Curtis around, he’d definitely keep America and the Vice President safe.

But now he’s like this, it’s not good for the country.

During the sensitive time of a change in Presidents, turmoil is most likely.

Surrounded by wolves, how can we be careless?

Back then, you could trust that Curtis would be the first one in and last one out of a crisis. Now, he needs a little more time and a lot more coffee.

When I was annoyed, I used to like wandering the East Wing.

But now, I don’t want to set foot in there at all.

Titles are a small matter—I can bend as needed. Calling my own wife ‘Madam First Lady’ is tolerable. Just trying to live up to the family name.

But I’ve discovered I never truly understood my wife.

The First Lady’s real name is Lillian Keller, the cherished daughter of the late Senator Keller—gentle, virtuous, serene.

But my gentle and virtuous Lillian’s biggest hobby now is sparring with Ryan in the White House gym—boxing gloves and all.

As soon as I step into the living quarters, I can hear the siblings thumping and trash-talking.

So annoying.

The First Lady fought heartily. “After pretending to be a proper lady for so many years, I was suffocating. Finally, I can have a good fight, it’s great!”

I seriously suspect, if we’d sent Senator Keller to the battlefield back then, would he have racked up some military merit too?

The First Lady didn’t just unleash her martial side—her taste in food changed too.

The formerly light dishes are all replaced with heavy oil and spice.

She stuffed a big piece of spicy BBQ brisket into her mouth. “So moved, I finally don’t have to put up with the bland food the late President liked.”

She grinned with a kind of ferocious glee, sauce smudged on her cheek, waving a rib bone like a trophy. I couldn’t help but laugh—so this is the real Lillian.

I was instantly disheartened.

She even kindly gave me a piece. “Charlie, you try too.”

I took a bite. The spiciness shot straight to my skull—exactly like when the First Lady wiped my face at the memorial that day.

Actually, it’s not just the First Lady. I found that many people have changed.

For example, General Lee—he was never this aggressive before.

In recent meetings, he’s always subtly targeting Curtis, seemingly trying to force him to step down.

He’s eyeing the Chief of Staff’s position?

And Secretary Franklin, Secretary Wu, Director Smith…

I remember their relationships weren’t this close before.

Even the always straightforward and honest Ryan has become clever, learning to maneuver among the different cabinet factions.

Truly surprising.

Among my remaining sons, there seem to be two with improper thoughts.

In this messy time, ambassadors from the Western Alliance arrived.

Officially to congratulate America’s new leader, but everyone knows their real intent.

Just probing for weaknesses, hoping to stir up trouble if there’s a chance.

My idiot youngest son fell for it.

The Western Alliance ambassador had just delivered a box of rare bourbon and a designer suit to his house, and I got the news right away.

That fool even happily spoke up for the ambassador in front of me.

I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to slap him right then and there.

Ignorant fool, bought off by such a small thing.

But I can’t really blame him. Most of America’s Midwest is cold and harsh, the people are tough, goods are rough, far less refined than the South, so a designer suit is a rare item here.

I gave that idiot a good scolding, but he just let it go in one ear and out the other, staring at me with big, confused eyes. “Big bro, how come you suddenly nag like Dad?”

Looking at his useless face, I got angrier, kicked him. “Go back and think it over!”

He ran out holding his butt. “Seriously, even the strength is exactly like Dad!”

If he weren’t family, he’d be prime meme material on TikTok by now. But in the end, all you can do is hope the next generation will learn from your mistakes.

The Western Alliance ambassadors also sent me two diplomats who looked like they’d stepped off a Hollywood red carpet.

Good-looking, pleasant to talk to, can write, paint, sing, dance, everything.

They asked if I was pleased.

I nodded, smiling kindly at the diplomats. Such talent—my son is blessed.

So with a wave of my hand, I accepted them into the East Wing.

After the diplomats entered the residence, the ambassadors found all sorts of excuses to linger as long as possible.

I heard during this time, they tried to send messages to the two, but failed.

Heh, what are they thinking?

Once you enter the White House, you’re part of America now.

As for the few restless cabinet members, I fired some, pressured others to resign, and with Curtis’s mediation, things gradually settled down, everyone doing their job.

The ambassadors, seeing there was no opportunity, slunk back home.

If only all foreign intrigue could be solved with a little hospitality and some quick administrative shuffling.