"Happiness isn't my concern. Not now, not ever."
The woman who would become President.
She learned to make the sun rise at six. Already, she was sick of cowering in the darkness, sick of the fear and helplessness that all but paralyzed her. She would never shrink away again. When she opened her eyes in her bed, the bright golden orb was there to greet her. It had worked, and she learned she could do anything.
She was thirteen when she saw clothes could be armor. Statements didn't always have to be said or written. Silence could be a powerful weapon. Let people make their assumptions. Allowing others to think they knew her would only give her more power. She controlled what they saw - what they thought knew.
At fourteen, she stole one of her father's cigarettes for the first time. Her mother had her life planned out to the finest detail, but she'd be damned if she let anyone arrange her existence to suit their whims. She was nobody's toy and no one's pawn. The cigarette burnt her lungs, but the fire was its own comfort.
At fifteen, she realized that her elegant cheekbones and lithe, powerful figure could be wielded as weapons. People hung on her every word, sought her out like an addiction, did whatever she asked for a mere smile and sweep of her eyelashes. She was growing into her features, childhood loveliness giving way to magnificent beauty, and she intended to use it to her advantage.
It was also the first time she was betrayed by a lover, and by her own innocence. She had been young and naïve, and she had trusted him. Never would she trust blindly again.
Sixteen was the first time she realized beauty could be a curse. Beautiful girls became models and then trophy wives to the prom kings after they reached the ungodly age of twenty-five. They didn't run companies, or become politicians, or god forbid, lead a country.
The first time a boy proposed, she was eighteen. Her mother was outraged at her refusal, but she'd taken so many tongue lashings, she no longer cared. The daughter of Dallas royalty wasn't going to stay in Highland Park and marry the prom king; she was going to rule her own kingdom.
At nineteen, her world shattered, and she broke, dissolving into a thousand razor sharp fragments after what he did to her. In the midst of that agony, she began to discover exactly how strong and powerful she could become. She would be damned if she let that bastard - and that gasping, sobbing, trembling little girl - destroy her.
At twenty-one, she pulled a man down on top of her for the first time since Dalton McGinnis. Francis's weight didn't crush or trap her. His body pinned her down, but instead of terrifying her, she felt safer than she had in years. She could trust him entirely, and that meant everything.
At twenty-two, she took his hand and they became partners, allies, co-conspirators. Together, they would build an empire, their own shining, magnificent realm. As yet there were no formal declarations, but they needed none; their blood oath was wrought in silence. Ambition would take them to the highest reaches of power, and in their fusion, they would become something nigh invincible.
Close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades...