CHAPTER ONE:

OLIVIA'S POINT OF VIEW:

Olivia was furious. She couldn't believe that she was being used as a pawn by the man who was supposed to protect her, not use her for a power play. Power that she would never be able to wield simply because of the color of her skin, and, because she had a vagina instead of a penis. At 24 years old, she was quite accomplished in her own right. She was six months away from acquiring her doctorate in Anthropology from Washington State University, her first book, Black History Before Slavery, was a New York Times best seller, and she was killing it as a single mother, choosing to use a surrogate to birth her twin babies, Xavier Jeremiah Davis, and Estella Maya Davis. She could have gone the traditional route of getting married, then having kids, but who had time to date men, walk down an aisle, have kids, have a career, be a Lady Boss and still put time and effort into a marriage? Not Olivia. When Edison Davis, a childhood friend, came to her with an offer she couldn't refuse - be his beard and have his babies - she accepted. Their marriage was a marriage of convenience, no muss, no fuss. They picked out a surrogate, he came in a cup, she had a few of her eggs removed and poof! 12 months later, the twins were born. Unfortunately, she forgot to notify her overbearing father, Elijah Pope, and when he found out, he lost his shit. Next thing she knew, Edison was dead, and her father was insisting that she marry the son of a republican presidential hopeful. The only reason she agreed was because she needed financial stability until she could get her affairs in order.

When Edison Davis died from a head on collision on his way to work, he was bankrupt. Olivia was floored when her lawyer, David Rosen Esq showed her the paperwork. She was virtually penniless. She didn't even have the money to pay for her last semester of college. Instead of succumbing to the weight suddenly dropped on her shoulders, she called her brother, Admiral Harrison Wright-Pope, for help, but because he was currently deployed overseas, she couldn't get a hold of him. So, she went to her father. Big Mistake.

Olivia picked up the manila folder on her father's desk and opened it. The first page was an 8x10 full color, glossy picture of a man wearing a white, dress Navy uniform, shaking the hand of President Marcus Walker, who was not only the youngest president at the age of 37, he was also the first African American president of The United States of America. She couldn't really see his face because his Navy cap was pulled down too far, but she could still see the cerulean blue of his eyes and his wide smile showing off a perfect set of pearly whites. He had perfect posture and wide set shoulders and a stance that even in the picture exuded confidence. The next page was his stats. His full name was Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the III. At 12, he'd been excepted into Mensa - a clear stamp to mark his high I.Q. and tested out of school with a perfect on his SAT's. But instead of going to Harvard, Yale, or Stanford, he enrolled at Howard University and majored in Advanced Mathematics. However, after graduating from Howard at 15, he enrolled in Harvard where he got his masters degree in Robot Engineering at the age of 18. He then spent two years at Cambridge, becoming a Rhodes Scholar, then at 20 he enrolled at MITT where he earned his doctorate in Robotic Engineering by the time he was 23. Because of he's degrees and monied pedigree he was able to enter the Navy at a higher rank than other officers and now at 28 he was set to be the youngest Commander in the history of the Navy. At six years old, he discovered the body of his mother, Katherine Georgiou-Grant, from a robbery gone bad. Soon after his mother's funeral, he went to live with his nanny, Dr. Fatima Joi Warner, an educator, in the Gullah Geechee Islands of South Carolina, where he was home schooled until he left to got to Howard. Olivia shuffled the papers around looking for a picture of Dr. Fatima Joi Warner, but couldn't find one. She also couldn't find a reason why a billionaire heir was sent to live on the other side of the U.S. with his nanny, instead of staying in California with his father. At 18 years old, he inherited the entirety of his mother's estate, which was currently estimated to be worth 23 billion dollars. The Georgiou family came from a long line of Greek Shipping Magnates, but the business was shutdown by the time Katherine inherited the estate from her father. The next page is about his father, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the II, otherwise known as Big Gerry. Only son of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant Sr. and Susan Pennebaker, a picture perfect couple from old white money. Senior Grant, as he was known, came from oil money. Before he'd married Susan, he'd been disinherited from his father and was allowed back into the family after his marriage. Susan's money came from the real estate empire Pennebaker Realty. Big Gerry's parents died 20 years ago in a boating accident, making Big Gerry's net worth around 57 billion. Big Gerry loved to throw his money around. The next few pictures showed Big Gerry with several different women, a few of which were actresses that Olivia was familiar with. Other than being a man-whore, Olivia didn't see anything scandalous in the documents.

Shutting the manila folder, Olivia looked up at her father. "I don't see anything on the son, so why is he agreeing to this?"

"I don't have anything on the son," Eli chuckled. He picked up the folder and put it one of his drawers in his desk. "It's what I have on the father."

"What is that?"

"The current republican nominee for the 2016 run for president isn't white. He's a white passing biracial. His mother is Dr. Fatima Joi Warner. His son's supposed 'nanny'. Imagine, what his base would think if that were to get out?"

XXXXXXXXXX

FITZ'S POV:

Fitz watched as Big Gerry paced the length of his Naval Office on Kitsap Base in Seattle, Washington. "I don't have time for this. I need you to tell me what is going on so I can get back to work."

Big Gerry stopped pacing and pulled a manila folder out of his briefcase. "I got this a few days ago."

Fitz opened the folder and perused the contents. "I'm confused, these documents don't explain why you've been wearing out my carpet for the last ten minutes."

"Flip to the last page."

Fitz did as he was told, silently reading what he'd suspected for years but never had any evidence to prove it. "So Tima is not my nanny, she's my grandmother."

"You don't sound surprised."

"I'm not. I've always suspected it. What other reason could there be for you to abandon your only child to the care of a nanny thousands of miles from home?"

"Son, I'm sorry…"

"No," Fitz held up his hand. "We are NOT going to rehash this issue again. I'm just glad to know that the only parental figure I love is actually related to me. I still don't understand why you are here."

Big Gerry takes a seat opposite Fitz. "I'm being black mailed. If I don't comply, this information will get out, thus ruining my chances of becoming president!"

"You don't want your base to know you're biracial. Come on, Big Gerry! It's 2016! If your racist constituents can't handle your mixed race heritage, maybe you should switch sides. With all of the abortions you've paid women to have, you should be a democrat anyway."

"This is serious!"

"What is it you want from me?"

Big Gerry handed Fitz another folder. As soon as Fitz opened it he closed it again. "No."

"Son…"

"Don't ever call me son again!"

"Fitzgerald, just read what's in the folder, please."

Fitz opened the folder again and stared at the black and white photograph. It was a picture of an African American woman, smiling ear to ear and holding up a book. Fitz flipped to the next page which had her info. Olivia Carolyn Pope, born to Maya and Elijah Pope. Sister to Harrison Wright-Pope, Eli's son from a previous marriage, an Admiral in the Navy and also Fitz's best friend. Sister to Quinn Perkins, Maya's other daughter from her second marriage to Dominic Perkins, who was only a little over a year younger than Olivia. Maya and Dominic were killed in a New York mugging gone wrong, both shot point blank in the head. At 22, she married her childhood friend, Edison Davis, and they eventually had twins, one boy, one girl. A few months ago, Edison Davis died, leaving Olivia penniless and apparently in the hands of her father who clearly wasn't above selling her off to the highest bidder. Fitz looked at her picture again. She was beautiful as well as intelligent, but none of that matter to Fitz. "Didn't you learn from the last time you tried to force a marriage on me? Remember Mellie? The woman you wanted me to marry but you ended up sleeping with? She got pregnant, and then tried to trick me into having sex with her so she could say I was the father? How is my new step mom, by the way? Is marriage everything it's cracked up to be?"

"How many times do I have to apologize for that?"

"Fuck you."

"I need you to marry this girl. Think of all the things I could do as president? Even if I don't win, I don't want it to be because the world found out I was half black. If I lose, I want it to be fair and square, not based on race."

"Please. Do I look stupid to you? You don't want people to find out because you've been passing as white your entire life and you know the privileges that comes with that. You're one of the wealthiest men in the world, you could buy anything you want, do anything you want, so why be president? Power. No more, no less. So please spare me the bullshit!"

"Fine! I want the power! What's wrong with that?"

"You don't deserve it."

"Look, Fitzgerald, it's not just the presidency I would lose. If you don't do this, he will kill me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Fitz laughed. "According to these documents, he's the director of the Smithsonian. Sounds like an empty threat to me."

"Elijah Pope is his real name, but he is also known as Rowan," Big Gerry slammed another folder onto Fitz's desk.

Fitz quickly scanned the contents of the folder. "Is this real?"

"Very real. You don't even want to know what I had to do to get that information."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Fitz greeted as he ushered Admiral Harrison Wright-Pope into his office. "I know you just got back from over seas."

"No problem, Admiral Grant. Or should I say Commander Grant? Have they told you yet?"

"Nah," Fitz said, dapping up his best friend.

Harrison sat down across from Fitz. "Alright then, why am I here?"

Fitz handed Harrison a stack of folders. "The first folder, as you can see is all about me and my family. The second folder is about your sister, Olivia."

Harrison stopped perusing the documents to glare at Fitz. "Why do you have a folder on my sister?"

"The third folder," Fitz continued. "Is about your father." Fitz watched as Harrison looked through all the documents.

When Harrison was done, he sat forward in his seat. "What the fuck is this?"

"I want to know the same thing."

"You think I have something to do with this?"

"No. I don't. But this man," Fitz points to the picture of Eli Pope. "Is supposed to be Command of an elite, covert government agency that not only is responsible for some of the most horrendous acts of war across the globe, but seems to be operating outside the boundaries of the CIA, but, is funded by the CIA with taxpayers dollars."

"No," Harrison denied. "My father is an asshole, for sure, but this? No way."

Fitz opened one of the drawers of his large, Mahogany desk and produced a facsimile and gave it to Harrison. "This is what I received when I reached out to contacts I have in the CIA and that is what they sent me."

"This is a cease and desist letter."

"All the more reason to believe that it's true."

"Look, Fitz, this is a lot to take in, but, my sister is a good kid. If it's true that my father is this Rowan character, I can guarantee he's just using my sister as a pawn. I just don't know why. Why go through all of this?"

"I think he wants a piece of the oval."

"My dad…Eli, is a staunch democrat. If he wanted the oval, why not use a democratic presidential candidate?"

"I can't answer that."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing. I'm not interested in getting married, and if I was, it wouldn't be an arrangement made by my or your father. Besides, it's your sister, wouldn't that be awkward?"

Before Harrison can answer, there was a knock at his office door.

"Come in!"

Warrant Officer Trent Lowry entered the room and saluted Fitz and Harrison.

"At ease officer. What can I do for you?"

"I have bad news, Admiral Grant."

"What it is?"

"At 07:00 hour, the bodies of your father, step mother and their two year old son was found at the Governor's Mansion in Sacramento, California. Local police think it was a murder suicide. The coroner is currently performing autopsies on all the bodies.

XXXXXXXXXX

OLIVIA'S POV:

Picking up the remote, Olivia muted the tv and opened her door. "Harrison!" she squealed, launching herself into her brother's arms.

"Hey, Sissy!" Harrison spun her around, then sat her down on her feet.

Olivia was crying, she'd missed her brother so much. "When did you get back?"

Taking a seat in her living room, Harrison sighed. "A little over a week ago."

"You're just now coming to see me?"

"I had some things to take care of, but, I'm here now."

"I missed you. You missed Edison's funeral."

"I know. I'm sorry for your loss, Sissy. How are you? How are the babies?"

"Other than being broke?" Olivia shrugged her shoulders and picked up the baby monitor and checked on her babies. "I'm fine. The babies are fine. Everything is fine."

"Sissy…I know about Dad trying to get you to marry Fitz."

"What?" Olivia raised her eyebrows in surprise. "How do you know about that? Better yet, how are you on a shortened name basis with Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the III?"

"He's my best friend. We grew up together in South Carolina. I thought you knew that…"

"You never really talked about your home life when you would come visit us."

"Every time I would try, it upset Dad, so I stopped mentioning anything to do with California."

"You could have talked to me, I wouldn't have repeated it."

"By the time you were old enough to understand anything, I'd gotten used to keeping my mouth shut."

Olivia noticed the melancholy look on Harrison's face. "Do you miss them? Your mom and step-dad? I miss my mom everyday."

"I do. Everyday. Did you ever get to meet my step dad?"

"You mean Melvin 'Cat Daddy' Wright?" Olivia chuckled. "I did that one time that they came to the house to pick you up. I think they were already in D.C. or something, and they picked you up instead of letting Dad fly you to California."

"Ah! I remember that? Dad was so pissed! When he said, 'You tell that motherfucking Cat Daddy to get out from in front of my house with that loud ass Cadillac! Tell him to get that muffler fixed!"

Harrison and Olivia bust out laughing.

"He talked about Cat Daddy for a week straight after you left!" Olivia wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hands. "Melvin was pretty smooth, wasn't he?"

"Daddy was definitely a cool dude."

"You called him 'Daddy'?"

"He was my Daddy. He raised me. Dad only spent Christmas break, spring break and every other summer with me. Daddy was there for everything else."

Olivia took Harrison's hand in her own. "I'm sorry, Harrison."

"I'm good," Harrison sniffed.

"I'm here for you if you ever want to talk about them."

"I know, Liv."

"So!" Olivia patted Harrison's knee. "Do you want something to drink? I've got water and wine."

"I'll take a glass of wine."

After gathering two wine glasses and a bottle of her favorite red, Du Bellay, Olivia returns to her living room and hands Harrison a glass.

After taking a sip, Harrison sits down his glass and looks at Olivia. "What do you know about B6-13?"