Cyrus shoots off like a rocket, heading straight for the White House to stop Sally Langston in her tracks, to put her in her place. Olivia watches him go, her mind already racing with a thousand thoughts. She wouldn't be far behind him. There are still too many things hanging in the balance—things she needs to handle.
But for now, there is something she has to do first. Karen and Gerry are still asleep, unaware of the tragedy that had just unfolded. Their mother was no longer a part of this world, their baby brother's life hangs on by the thinnest of threads, and their father… well, there are still too many unknowns. Olivia can barely process the weight of all that has happened in such a short span of time.
She makes her way to the couches where the kids sleep, her steps heavy as she looks down at them. Gerry's long limbs are tangled in the cushions, his head nestled against his sister's, and Karen's small hand rested over his.
"Ger, wake up," Olivia murmurs, gently shaking his arm.
Gerry stirs, blinking groggily, his eyes slowly focusing as he registers the voice. "Olivia?" he asks, voice thick with sleep.
Olivia's heart aches as she sees the confusion in his eyes. He can tell something is wrong by the look on her face. He always could.
"Is it dad?" he asks, his voice small, barely above a whisper. "Is he…?"
"No," Olivia says, her voice trailing off. She swallows hard, the words she had to say sticking in her throat. How is she supposed toto break this news to him? To any of them?
Gerry sits up, the sleep quickly fading from his eyes as he scans her face, searching for the truth. "No, it's… it's not Dad?"
Olivia hesitates for a moment, before shaking her head slowly. Then, with a deep breath, she says, "I need to tell you something, Gerry."
"I need to know, Livia," he interrupts, his voice firm despite the clear tremor. "Before you wake up Karen. I need to know what happened. I need to be there for her, and I won't be able to if we find out at the same time. She can't see me like this... not until I know what happened."
Olivia's heart cracks. He's only fourteen years old, and yet he's asking for this kind of burden, trying to protect his younger sister in the midst of all this chaos. It wasn't fair. It isn't right.
But he is the President's son, and he had already learned early on that life didn't deal him a fair hand.
"Gerry…" Olivia says, her voice breaking as she crouches beside him. "You're a big brother again."
At first, a small smile tugs at Gerry's lips. He hated it when his parents had told him they were having another baby. The constant reminders of being the big brother. He'd resented it. But over time, he came around to the idea. He had begun to embrace it, and the prospect of another Grant in the family started to feel… like a gift.
But that smile falters almost instantly as the realization sinks in.
"Mom's not due for another 14 weeks," he says, the words barely a whisper, but filled with a sinking dread. "What happened? Is the baby… is mom… are they okay?"
Olivia can feel the weight of the world settling on her shoulders. The truth is, there are no answers that could make any of this easier.
"Your brother…" Olivia begins, but the words feel too heavy to say. She forces herself to continue. "He's a fighter, Gerry. He's in the NICU. He's fighting." But the silence between them grows as the air thickens with unspoken dread.
Gerry's face twists with confusion and fear. "What about Mom?" His voice was barely audible, his eyes searching hers, desperate for some kind of hope.
Olivia doesn't say anything. She can't. No amount of words could undo what happened.
"Olivia?" His voice was shaky now, a crack of terror creeping through. "What about Mom?"
She reaches for his hand, squeezing it gently, but the moment her fingers touches his, it's like the dam broke.
"Oh, Gerry," she whispers, her voice shaking. "I'm so, so sorry. She didn't make it."
For a moment, the world seems to stop. The air in the room becomes thick and heavy, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for Gerry's reaction. But there's nothing—no sobs, no outbursts, no tears. It's like the world has gone deaf, and the only thing that remains is the quiet sound of Olivia's heartbeat, a rhythm that seems out of place in such a still, suffocating moment.
Gerry just stares at her, his face blank. He can't fathom it. He couldn't make sense of what she had said.
And Olivia can't bring herself to look away from him. She had never wanted to break his spirit, to shatter whatever innocence remained in him. But life had already stolen so much from him.
He blinks slowly, as though the words hadn't quite registered, and then his lips part. "No. No... she can't be gone. She... she was cold. She was distant, but… she was still my mom. She can't be gone. I can't live in a world without her."
The sob that breaks through him startles both of them, like a crack of a whip in the silence. He hugs his arms to his chest, his body wracked with the kind of grief that only comes when the world falls apart. Olivia moves to hold him, her arms wrapping tightly around him, but even as she does, she could feel the weight of his pain settling deep into her own bones.
It's not supposed to be like this. No child should have to bury their parent.
Gerry pulls away slightly, his face pale, the color draining from his skin. He's trying to understand, trying to make sense of everything, but it's not coming together. "This isn't… This isn't real."
Olivia doesn't have the words. She doesn't know what to say. The silence stretches between them again, only broken by the faint sound of Karen stirring from the couch.
Gerry wipes his eyes and looks back at Olivia, his expression hardening. He's still the President's son, and he will face whatever comes next with whatever strength he has left.
"I need to be there for Karen," he says, voice trembling but resolute.
Olivia nods, though it felt like the ground was shifting beneath them. Everything has just changed, and there is no going back.
They aren't just grieving anymore. They are survivors. And whatever comes next, they would face it together.
Olivia watches as Gerry gently breaks the news to his sister. His voice is calm, steady, even though she can see the tremor in his eyes. Karen's face contorts in confusion, then in realization. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. Her small body shakes as the truth sinks in, and before Olivia can move, Karen bursts into tears, collapsing into her older brother's arms. Gerry wraps his arms around her tightly, murmuring soft words she can't hear, but Olivia can see the gentle rhythm of his comfort, the way he's holding her together even as he struggles to hold himself up.
Olivia feels a pang in her chest, her own throat tight as she watches them. It's a heartbreaking scene—one she never imagined would unfold like this. She knows that, for now, Gerry is the one who has to be strong for Karen. She can't take that role from him.
Turning away, she scans the room, her gaze shifting over the Secret Service agents standing guard. But then, one of them catches her attention. Lucinda. She recognizes her from past assignments. Lucinda has been part of the detail that watched over Karen for years.
Olivia walks over to her, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
"You're Lucinda, right?" Olivia asks, her voice gentle but urgent. "You were assigned Karen's detail."
The agent looks up at her, meeting Olivia's gaze, then gives a small nod.
"Yes, ma'am," she answers, her voice firm but quiet.
Olivia smiles faintly. "Lucinda—"
"Lucy, please," she corrects quickly, offering a slight, almost embarrassed smile.
Olivia's smile widens. "Lucy, from here on out, your main job is to watch the First Children. Don't let anyone talk to them, understand? Not a soul."
Lucy nods, her posture straightening with the responsibility. "Understood."
"Hand me your phone," Olivia says, holding out her hand.
Lucy hesitates for only a moment before handing it over. Olivia quickly inputs her number into the device and presses it back into Lucy's hands.
"There," Olivia says, her voice low, but firm. "Now you have my number. If the doctor comes to talk to them, call me immediately. No exceptions. Got it?"
Lucy looks at the phone, her fingers gripping it tighter. "Got it, ma'am."
As Olivia hands the phone back to her, she can't help but feel a small surge of relief. At least someone she trusts is in place to keep an eye on the children, to protect them as best as they can in this moment of chaos.
But just as she's about to turn away, she hears Karen's voice, small and broken.
"You're leaving?" she asks, her face still streaked with tears. The little girl's voice cracks, and Olivia's heart aches at the sound.
Olivia kneels in front of her. "Just for a little while, Kar."
"You can't go," Karen says, her arms wrapping tightly around Olivia's neck as she launches herself into her, pressing her face into Olivia's shoulder, her sobs muffled against her.
Olivia exhales softly, wrapping her arms around the little girl, offering the comfort she can. "Hey, hey," she whispers, her voice calm but filled with emotion. "It's going to be okay, Kar. Lucy here is going to take good care of you."
Karen nods against Olivia's shoulder, but she doesn't let go just yet. The little girl is holding on tight, clinging to Olivia as if she's afraid to let go, afraid of the world that's suddenly too big, too frightening.
Olivia looks up at Gerry, who is standing across the room. He's holding it together, for now, but Olivia can tell it's taking everything he has. He's fixated on something. She follows his gaze, her eyes landing on the TV.
A split screen flashes before them—one side showing the footage of the assassination attempt, the other showing Sally Langston speaking with calculated precision.
The broadcast, a replay of Sally's speech, has been looping, her confident tone unbroken, like the woman is already the President. The words echo in the room: "We must all join hands and pray for our President, who fights bravely to hold on to life... I am in place at the White House and in charge of the situation."
Olivia's hands ball into fists, and she can feel her blood pressure spike. This is the last thing the kids need to see.
"Someone turn that off, now!" Olivia snaps, her voice cutting through the air, filled with anger and urgency.
Karen looks up at her, her eyes wide with confusion and pain. "Olivia, what's happening?" she asks through her sobs.
Olivia's heart tightens as she looks down at the little girl. "I have to go," she says softly, brushing a strand of Karen's hair back. She gives her a quick, tight hug before standing. Then, she looks over at Gerry again, and her eyes lock with his. His jaw is clenched, his fists tight at his sides, and it's clear he's struggling to keep it together.
"Don't turn that back on," Olivia says firmly, her voice quiet but insistent. "Not now, Gerry."
He nods, his face set with determination. He's already doing his best to shield Karen from everything, from the reality of what's happened, from the weight of what's to come.
Olivia turns away, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she has to leave, but she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to leave them, not like this. But the storm is only just beginning, and the battle for survival isn't just about the children—it's about the future. The country needs to be stabilized, and Olivia knows she's the one who has to fight for that.
She glances at Lucy, gives her a quick, reassuring nod, then heads toward the door. But before she leaves, she takes one last look at the kids—Karen clinging to Lucy, Gerry still holding strong. Olivia knows she can't afford to break now. They need her to be strong.
And she will be. For them. For Fitz. For the baby. For the country.
She steps out into the hallway, her resolve hardening as she prepares for whatever comes next.
Olivia strides into the White House hallway, her presence immediately commanding the attention of the staff that had been huddled, murmuring in uncertainty. The moment they see her, a palpable sense of calm washes over the room.
She stops, glancing briefly at the door to the Oval Office. There's no need to enter yet; the chaos inside is manageable—for now. She turns to face the gathered staff, her voice cool and authoritative.
"I need the senior communication staff gathered and ready to brief in twenty minutes," she announces, and without waiting for acknowledgement, she scans the room, her eyes landing on Jeannie. "You."
Jeannie freezes, and Olivia tosses her keys without hesitation. "Go to my apartment. The Secret Service has my address. I need one gray suit, one blue suit, one black suit, six blouses, three pairs of shoes, some underwear, and my toothbrush. Bring it all to me here."
Jeannie catches the keys mid-air, nodding as she begins to head for the exit.
Olivia then faces the room again, her gaze sharp as she scans for anyone else who might be lingering. "This isn't a drill. We don't have time for questions, and we don't have time for second-guessing. You're going to work hard and you're going to work fast. I need to get the President's office stabilized, but it's on you all to make sure the rest of the country believes we're still standing strong. Don't fail me."
She takes a step toward the Oval Office but pauses as a staffer calls after her, unsure. "Ms. Pope, does this mean… you're back?"
Olivia looks over her shoulder, her expression serene but unmistakably resolute. "Yes," she replies, her voice unwavering. "Back. For as long as you need me. Believe me, everything is really going to be okay."
With that, she turns and walks with purpose toward the Oval Office.
Inside, the atmosphere is tense. Cyrus is standing firmly, his tone sharp and biting as he tries to rein in Sally Langston's increasingly erratic behavior.
"Do you know who lands on the South Lawn?" Cyrus demands, his voice rising, not in anger, but in a way that's calculated and deliberate.
Sally bristles, ready for a confrontation. "Oh, don't start with me, Cyrus. I'm in charge now."
"The President of the United States," Cyrus counters smoothly, not backing down an inch.
Sally scoffs. "The man has a bullet in his head, the country needs leadership. The world needs leadership."
Cyrus gives a rueful smile, his gaze never leaving her. "He may have a bullet in his head, but he is still the President. And that's still his lawn, Sally. No matter how much you wish it wasn't."
"I am in charge now!" Sally declares with sudden, misplaced certainty, her fists clenched at her sides.
"No," Cyrus says, his voice growing colder, more cutting. "You're not. Have you even read the Constitution? Or did you get so enraptured with the Second Amendment that you skipped over everything else?"
Sally sneers, stepping forward to face him. "I've had quite enough of this."
Cyrus leans in slightly, his tone shifting to one of chilling calm. "Let me make this very clear for you, Sally." He pauses, then quotes succinctly, "The 25th Amendment: In the case of the removal of the President from office, or his death, or resignation, the Vice President shall become President. Since none of those things have happened, the only way you can be President is if the President himself signs power over to you. Or you gather the signatures of the Cabinet. Now, I know all that might be a little confusing, so let me summarize it for you: unless the President dies, you're not in charge. Period."
Sally opens her mouth to retort, but Cyrus doesn't let her. He straightens, his eyes steely with resolve. "And if the President dies, I'll call you. Until then, you'll stay right where you are and follow the orders of those who are actually still in power. These men"—he gestures to the two Secret Service agents standing at attention near the door—"are under direct orders from the Department of Homeland Security and the Secretary of Defense to take you to a secure location. You can walk yourself, or they can carry you. Your choice."
Sally's face flushes with fury. "The hell they will," she spits, but even as she says it, she knows she's lost.
Cyrus doesn't flinch. "You'll be escorted, Sally. No one's going to make this easy on you."
At that moment, Olivia steps into the room, her presence a silent reminder of who's in control. She barely glances at Sally, but her sharp eyes take in the entire scene in an instant. She doesn't need to say anything. The air shifts the moment she enters—the weight of authority and experience radiates from her like a beacon.
Sally, seeing Olivia's cold gaze, knows her time is up. She hesitates, but only for a moment. Her shoulders stiffen as she turns to leave, fury simmering beneath the surface. Without another word, she storms out, the two agents following in her wake.
Olivia's gaze lingers on the door as it closes behind Sally, and then she turns back to Cyrus, her expression focused, unbothered.
"We need to talk about how we handle the First Lady," Olivia says, her voice sharp and calm, yet heavy with the weight of what must be done.
Cyrus exhales deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's not going to be easy. The world is already watching, and when the news breaks that Mellie is gone, we need to control the narrative. The last thing we want is for this to look like… chaos."
Olivia's eyes flicker with a moment of something like sadness, but it's gone in an instant. "It's not about chaos. It's about clarity. We need to give the American people a clear message that we're still standing strong, that there's a plan in place."
She walks toward the Resolute Desk, her fingers brushing lightly over the surface as she stands before it, lost in thought for a moment. It's only a brief pause, but in that silence, the enormity of the situation hits her again. The First Lady is gone, and Fitz is somewhere in the background, unconscious, vulnerable. He's still the President.
But for how long?
Cyrus takes a step closer, his voice low and careful. "The question is, how do we present this without making it feel like we're crumbling under the pressure? The public needs to hear that we're unified—no division, no cracks showing. And if we're going to bring Fitz back, we need to be able to control his image, too. He's still the leader of the country, even if his… state is questionable."
Olivia doesn't look at him right away. Her mind flashes briefly to Fitz—the man she's fought for, fought with, loved, and lost time and time again. She swallows hard, a flicker of vulnerability passing over her features, but it's gone as quickly as it came.
"We need to give them a sense of stability. We need to reassure them that this moment will pass, that we have a plan, and that leadership is still in place. But we also need to be honest. Mellie's death has to be handled with respect, but we can't sugarcoat it." She looks at Cyrus, her tone firm. "She's gone. And we can't afford to pretend otherwise. The country needs to grieve, but it also needs to move forward. The First Lady is gone, but the President is still here. And we need to make it clear that no matter what happens to him, the country will be led."
Cyrus nods slowly, taking in her words. "The truth, but not the whole truth. We don't need to tell them about his condition yet. Not until we're sure."
Olivia's expression hardens, a flicker of something unspoken flashing in her eyes. She knows the weight of that decision. Telling the world about Fitz's condition, or worse, his death, would send shockwaves through the country. It could destroy everything they've worked for. But withholding that information for too long would only breed more questions, more uncertainty. The trick is timing, and they need to get it right.
"Right. We play it carefully," Olivia agrees, her voice steady but knowing. "We give them the facts as they come, but we need to keep the narrative focused on the country, on the future. Leadership doesn't die just because one person falls. That's what we tell them."
She reaches for a pen, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the desk as she begins to mentally piece together the speech she will have to deliver. A statement, but also a promise. A promise that despite everything, the United States will move forward.
Thank you all for your reviews! I really appreciate them! I know this is short chapter, but chapter 4 is done, and I plan on posting it later tonight.