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It was very rare for James to be alone. She couldn't recall the last time it had actually happened. Typically, she was with one of her parents or Doug or with her fellow students. Tonight, her parents had excused themselves with excuses of work and Doug was needed with her father. So when she heard Steve refusing entry to someone outside, she grew curious and padded from the kitchen to the foyer to see what was going on. Opening up the door, she found a young woman standing at the bottom of the stairs with Steve blocking her path to the front door.

"Ms. Underwood, please go back inside." Steve requested.

James frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Reporter?"

The young woman nodded. "I'm with the Herald. I was hoping to speak with Congressmen Underwood."

James felt her stomach drop. Her father was known for being notoriously tight-lipped. If someone was reaching out to speak with him professionally, it would be done through official channels at his office or trying to catch him leaving work for the day. Judging the determination of this journalist tracking down her father's home address and the push up bra showing through her t-shirt, James was pretty positive it wasn't a strictly professional meeting she was hoping to have. "Pat her down and send her in."

"Ms. Underwood-" Steve tried to protest, but found that the young Underwood had already gone back inside and left the door wide open for her unexpected guest.

James returned to the kitchen to close her laptop, walking into the living room just as the young woman was walking inside. "My father isn't here at the moment, but he should be home soon."

"You're James Underwood." The journalist stated with a single breath.

"That's a fair assumption considering my parents only have the one child." James smirked before gesturing for them to sit. "I'm not quite sure I know who you are though."

The young woman shook her head in apology. "Zoey Barnes. Sorry to barge in on you like this. It probably seems strange having a journalist inside your home, a stranger inside your home."

James smiled with a shake of her head. "You're not the first. What exactly where you looking to talk to my father about?"

"Uh," Zoey rubbed her palms against the legs of her jeans, "I got a tip, an email, and I wanted to speak with him further about it." She cleared her throat, wanting to change the topic. "I've heard from colleagues of mine that you're pretty impressive yourself. Already entering the world of politics and speaking out against and for certain topics of controversy. Before you started, some of us wondered about you and what you were really like. Information about you, even photos, were rare."

"My parents didn't want me in the middle of their jobs." James explained politely. "They chose that life. I just happened to be their daughter."

Zoey nodded, glancing around at some of the family photos that were on the walls and tables. "What changed?"

James smirked. "My maturity. Entering into high school seemed to tip the scales with my parents. I had strong opinions, and they have never been ones to hold me back." She checked the clock standing behind Zoey, knowing Francis would be home any minute. "If you don't mind me asking, does that look work for you?"

"I'm sorry?" Zoey frowned, checking her outfit with a quick look.

"Just," James gestured to her chest, "the bra showing through your shirt. Wearing a push up bra to give the illusion you have more than you actually do. Does it work for you? Don't get me wrong. You're very pretty, but the look always screamed way to eager to me."

Zoey's eyes widened. "It's casual."

"Agreed," James nodded, "you'll have to excuse me. I'm just used to seeing journalists look a bit more professional when they come to interview my father, especially in his own home."

The front door opened then, revealing Francis rushing inside as quickly as he could without making their guest think he was flustered. James could tell though, and one look from her told him exactly how annoyed she was with Zoey's presence. He huffed out a breath. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Congressman, I-" Zoey began, standing up startled at his reaction.

James smiled sweetly. "It's alright, Daddy. I invited her in. She said she has some questions to ask you about an email she received." The tilt of her head did not go unnoticed by Francis, another telltale sign that she was more than just angry with him. "We didn't really get into that, but it seemed of the utmost importance considering she showed up at our house."

Zoey shook her head, clearly uncomfortable. "It's really not that important."

"Ah," James hummed before heading for the kitchen, "either way, I'll leave you two to it."

Francis's jaw clenched, knowing his already rough night had not ended yet. He turned his glare to the young journalist. "I'm going to ignore the fact that you tracked me down to my home to ask me about some God damn email. I'll even ignore that it's far too late for you to be making house calls, but I will not ignore that you still entered my home when it was evident I wasn't here and proceeded to talk to my fourteen year old daughter. Get the hell out of my house!" He seethed as Zoey fled the house, slamming the door behind her. His attention quickly changed to his daughter, pushing him forward to find her anchored to the kitchen counter with no mask holding her anger back either. "James! What were you fucking thinking letting that reporter in here?"

"What? I couldn't fuck with her head a little bit before you did?" James challenged, feeling her knuckles start to ache with the harsh grip she had on the countertop. "Your marriage is your business, but I don't want to know about the people you and Mom go to when you fight or scheme or need space."

"Our marriage is none of your business." Francis shot back. "You're our daughter. You are our business, not the other way around."

James scoffed. "I'll gladly wash my hands of it when the twenty year olds dressed like they're reading to work at a car wash don't show up at our front door looking like fucking bambi." She grabbed her laptop off the counter, passing by Francis. "If you didn't want me in your business, you shouldn't have had me!"

Francis nearly growled as he turned to James, watching her head for the stairs. "We aren't done here. What you did tonight was dangerous even if the person showing up was here without intentions to harm us. What were you talking to her about?"

"Clothes." James fired back, stomping up the stairs anyway. "I could say the same thing about her showing up at our house. Really doubt a late night visit from a young woman looks good in any situation." She set her laptop down and flew back down the stairs, pulling out her phone. "How about we call Mom and ask? Pretty sure she'd agree with me there."

Francis stormed over to her. "We do not need to bother your mother with this."

But, the call was already dialed and picked up. James's phone speaker rang out with Claire's voice. "James, sweetheart, can I call you back? I'm in the middle of something here."

Then, an expected voice. "Claire, can we please finish our conversation without you running away?" It was Adam Galloway.

James's laugh cynically as Francis's shoulders dropped in defeat. "For the love of God!" James nearly screamed, climbing the stairs once again. "You two need to figure your shit out. Get a vibrator for all I care. Join an orgy. Become swingers. I don't want to hear your affairs."

Francis felt like his jaw might break it was clenched so tightly. He was sure James had hung up her phone, was expecting Claire to call him in a few moments after trying and failing to get James back on the phone. When his daughter slammed her bedroom door shut, the force of it must have knocked a couple pictures off the walls, because he could hear a few crack onto the floor above his head. He added to it be grabbing a vase nearby and chucking it into the wall.

He pulled out his phone, seeing Claire was already calling him. He answered without hesitation. "You made it just in time for the finale."

Claire sighed, groaning into what sounded like her knees. "What happened?"

"That reporter we talked about," Francis began as he walked into the kitchen to avoid his voice carrying up to his daughter's room, "she showed up here looking less than professional, and our daughter quickly figured out what was going on. Even invited the reporter in while I was taking care of Russo."

"Well, that backfired before it began." Claire breathed as she walked down the hotel hallway. After James had heard Adam's voice and hung up, Claire left the bathroom, tried calling her daughter while she collected her things, and told Adam they were done before leaving the hotel room all together. "On a scale of me to you, how mad is she?"

Francis grunted into his hand, exhausted. "Definitely me if she didn't break the scale." He shook his head. "I've never seen her that pissed off before. You sure we can't blame this on teenage hormones or something?"

Claire smiled sadly as she got on the elevator. "Not this time. This one is on us, even if neither of us were sleeping with other people tonight."

"How did things go with Adam?" Francis asked with tired eyes.

Claire dropped her head back against the wall. "Have no idea. We were arguing about stupid things when James called. After she hung up, I just told him we weren't going to be seeing each other anymore and left the room. He didn't chase after me, so he either saw it coming or was too shocked to follow." She walked out of the elevator when the doors opened to the garage. "What did you say to Zoey? She does have the email."

Francis snorted. "I think I scared her so badly she won't be an issue. I called her out on her ethics and told her to get out. She was out of here faster than Doug when we tell him to start planning revenge. If she really wants to use that email, she'll try reaching out again some other way. A way that won't involve seeing our daughter." He ran his hand down his face. "If we haven't fucked our daughter up before tonight, the job is done now."

Claire sat down next to Francis the next morning with her coffee in hand, frowning when she saw him looking up travel destinations in Europe. "Since when do you want to go to any of these places?"

"I don't, but James does. This is the best apology I can think of." Francis muttered, frowning when Claire closed his laptop with a chuckle. "Claire, our daughter thinks we're nymphomaniacs."

Claire giggled into her mug. "No, she does not. She's just upset. She knows that our marriage is not conventional. Last night was the first time she was faced with the unconventional sides. It was just a lot for her to take in." She rubbed his shoulder before seeing the broom leaning against the island beside him. "Did the picture frames shatter?"

"No, they cracked, but they're fine. This was for the vase." Francis muttered before he straightened seeing James walk into the room. He sighed when she avoided their gazes and went straight for the fridge. "James-"

"I don't want to know." James reiterated as she set to work making herself breakfast.

Claire rolled her eyes. "We just wanted to say that we know last night we put you in a difficult situation. We didn't mean for that to happen, and it won't going forward. Your father and I are fine." She eyed her daughter's back for a moment, seeing her teenager wasn't backing down. "What do you want?"

James smirked as she cracked eggs into a pan. "What are you offering?"

"Privacy. You're getting older, and there are going to be things that happen that you probably don't want us to know about." Claire stated calmly, ignoring Francis squeezing her thigh. "You don't question our choices; we won't question you about yours unless things start to become reckless."

Francis's eyes widened. "Uh, Claire?"

James started adding meat and veggies to her eggs, standing strong with her back turned to them. "Just because you don't ask doesn't mean you won't pry for answers. If you think something is going on or you find out someone I'm hanging out with, I'm sure you'll have me followed or a full background check will be done."

"Thank God," Francis breathed, relieved that he didn't have to pretend to be clueless about his daughter's life. While James was very forth-coming and they were close as a family, he didn't think he'd be able to stand not interrogating his daughter if he felt something was going on. "What about a trip to Europe?"

Claire groaned into her hands. "Francis, that is totally unreason-"

James whipped around, all business as she leaned against the island opposite them. "I want Italy."

"Done!" Francis nodded before opening his laptop and narrowing his search. He felt Claire glaring at him without looking at her as James went back to preparing her breakfast. "Claire, imagine if you found out who your parents were sleeping with outside of each other."

Claire grimaced before shaking her head. "James, you like the movie The Sound of Music. We could stop in Austria while we're over there too."

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