One Night With The President

The heavy door of the Lincoln Navigator slammed shut, sealing Eloisa and Hilbert inside the back seat.

Between them, resting on the center console, was a single sheet of paper. The marriage certificate. It felt like a ticking time bomb.

The trip to City Hall had been a blur. They were ushered through a private back entrance. A judge in a wrinkled robe read a standard vow. Hilbert said "I do" with the enthusiasm of a man ordering a black coffee. Eloisa whispered it. The stamp came down. It took exactly eight minutes.

Eloisa stared out the window. The buildings of D.C. whipped past. She was twenty-one years old, pregnant, and married to a man who hadn't looked at her once since they left the judge's office.

Hilbert had a phone pressed to his ear.

"I don't care what the committee says," Hilbert barked into the phone. "Strip the amendment from the bill. If they push back, threaten to pull our funding for the infrastructure project."

He was speaking a language of power and leverage that Eloisa didn't understand. He was completely ignoring her existence.

Finally, he ended the call and tossed the phone onto the leather seat.

The silence in the car was suffocating.

Eloisa swallowed hard. She reached out and picked up the marriage certificate. Her fingers brushed the raised seal.

"About the contract," Eloisa started, her voice tight. "I have some questions about the living arrangements."

Hilbert didn't turn his head. He picked up a tablet and began scrolling through emails.

"If you have questions regarding the logistics," Hilbert interrupted, his tone flat, "speak to my lawyer. Alex Cole will be your primary point of contact."

He spoke to her like she was a low-level intern bothering him with a scheduling issue.

A hot spark of anger ignited in Eloisa's chest. The fear and intimidation she felt in the mansion suddenly burned away, replaced by a fierce need to defend her dignity.

"Your lawyer?" Eloisa snapped. "I am your wife now. Even if it's just on paper. We are going to be living in the same house. I am not communicating with my husband through a legal proxy."

Hilbert finally stopped scrolling. He slowly turned his head. His slate-gray eyes locked onto hers. They were sharp and irritated.

"Ms. Williams," Hilbert said, his voice dropping an octave. "Let us establish boundaries immediately. This is a business arrangement. Do not inject unnecessary emotional expectations into a corporate transaction."

Ms. Williams.

The name felt like a slap. Eloisa gripped the marriage certificate, the paper crinkling loudly in her fist.

"Legally," Eloisa said, her voice shaking with anger, "my last name is Wilkinson."

Hilbert's jaw tightened. "A name is a label. It does not change the reality of what you are to me."

Eloisa felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She looked at his perfect, unbothered face. He was a fortress of ice. He thought he could control every single aspect of this situation.

She wanted to crack that ice. She wanted to see him lose control, even for a second.

Eloisa leaned back against the leather seat. She took a slow breath, calming her racing heart.

"Fine. Partner," she said, mimicking his cold, corporate tone. "As part of our logistics, you need to tell your driver to take me to my apartment. I need to pack my things."

Hilbert pressed a button on the intercom connecting to the driver. "Turn around. Take Ms. Williams to her residence."

He used the name again. He was deliberately drawing a line in the sand.

Eloisa looked at his sharp profile. A reckless, spiteful idea sparked in her brain.

She shifted her body weight, leaning slightly closer to him. The scent of his cedarwood cologne wrapped around her, making her stomach flutter, but she pushed the feeling down.

She pitched her voice up, making it drippingly sweet and heavily sarcastic.

"Thank you so much," Eloisa purred.

Hilbert didn't react. He kept his eyes on his tablet.

Eloisa leaned an inch closer. She made sure her voice was loud and crystal clear in the quiet car.

"You are so incredibly thoughtful... dear husband."

She placed heavy, mocking emphasis on the last two words.

Hilbert's finger froze on the tablet screen.

His entire body went rigid. The muscles in his broad shoulders locked tight. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head to look at her.

His slate-gray eyes were wide. The cold, calculating politician was gone. In his place was a man who looked genuinely shocked, deeply annoyed, and entirely thrown off balance.

Eloisa watched in absolute triumph as a dark, angry flush of red crept up from the collar of his expensive shirt, burning the tips of his ears.

He was blushing. The untouchable Senator Wilkinson was blushing out of pure, unadulterated irritation.

Eloisa leaned back in her seat, a small, victorious smirk playing on her lips. Round one goes to the fake wife.