Isabella Hawthorne
My mind reeled, the weight of the President's words settling upon me like a suffocating cloak. "Measures not to my liking?" I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper. The opulent room, with its gilded furniture and crystal chandeliers, suddenly felt sterile and cold.
The President's gaze held a hint of something akin to pity, but it was quickly replaced by a stoic resolve. "Miss Hawthorne," he began, his voice low and measured, "the situation is more delicate than we initially anticipated. The potential your child possesses could destabilize the very fabric of our nation. National security, Miss Hawthorne, is paramount. It supersedes personal preferences, even as unsettling as that may sound," he paused, his eyes holding mine, "The Capitol is committed to ensuring your
