The chapters are so much longer on paper. Chapter 1 wasn't supposed to be quite so short… but… I guess that's okay for the introductory chapter.

A tall figure appeared in the doorway. "I know I've said the same thing before, but something tells me that I need to say it to you again," it said. "Watch yourself."

Nathan ignored the remark. "Hope you and the kids are holding up."

"Not with you behind that desk."

The president raised his eyebrow. "I remember the Constitution empowering me to stay."

"If I recall correctly, Nathan, it empowered Mackenzie to stay when she was next in line. Just now you're honoring it?" Rod Calloway spat. "This country deserves better than you." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the office.

This country deserves Mac.

Rod walked slowly through the Residence, unable to fully comprehend the situation. What now? he thought bitterly.

His only son's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. "Dad?" Horace ventured uneasily. "I can't find Amy."

Rod's eyes widened. "Have you looked everywhere? In her room?"

"Under the bed, in her closet, everywhere."

"What about Becca? She helped you?"

Horace glanced awkwardly around the living room. "Er… her door was closed… I – I didn't want to disturb her… y'know how it is…"

His father glanced sternly at him. "Whatever she's doing can wait."

At the knock on her door, Rebecca stuffed the diary into a desk drawer and snatched a tissue off of the nightstand to dab at her eyes. She turned away from Horace and Rod, attempting to hide her tearstained face.

Horace instantly rushed to Becca's side. "Hey," he said comfortingly. "We can't find Amy… do you know where she is?"

She didn't answer, but only sniffled and reached for another Kleenex.

"Rebecca," said Rod, his voice rising. "The world does not revolve around you. We need to focus on finding your sister. Amy is missing."

"And Mom is dead!" shouted Horace. His twin burst into tears.

As he looked down at his heartbroken teenaged kids, the former First Gentleman softened. "I'll check the kitchens. Horace, maybe you should scour downstairs some," he said, heading towards the door. "We don't have much time. And Rebecca," Rod looked at his solemn daughter. "I expect your help."

After her dad and Horace exited what once her private sanctuary and safe haven, Becca heaved herself off of the bed and trooped dejectedly into the hallway. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to be feeling… depressed? Well, obviously. Angry? Gee, when your mother is brutally murdered, one doesn't forgive easily. Rebecca felt both of these feelings, but they were overpowered by helplessness and fear. She wanted answers. She needed to know exactly what had happened and what was yet to come. Most of all… would they come after her next?