Upstairs At The White House Novels & Stories

Ding! The elevator opened on the top floor. Naomi walked out of the elevator and looked up at everything. That floor was where the President's office was. The secretary's office and guest room were to the left, and the meeting room was to the right. The President's room was at the end. There were no luxury decorations like in the movies. Instead, everything was simple but impressive and refined. At that moment, a professionally dressed and incredibly neat young woman walked over toward Naomi.

Richard helped Sarah into the car before sitting beside her as Kelly drove out of the villa with Richard's entourage. As the car drove into the white house, Sarah couldn't believe herself. She was actually visiting the president and, for the first time, was entering the white house that she had only seen on television during broadcast. She looked out of the car window and saw an area of the large compound that was adorned with lush greenery. She cast an admiring look at it as the car drove past the greenery.

It had the same four big pillars out the front, windows were scattered all over the front of the mansion, there was an American flag placed on the roof as well. The White House seemed more welcoming than Randall’s mansion though. The entrance to the home had guards stationed outside of it. Or at least I assumed they are guards. I was a bit nervous about coming here before, but now I was about to burst out of my skin from nerves. I mean, who has armed guards at the door besides pop stars and presidents? Alex finally eased the car to a stop, and he and Chase started to climb out. I grabbed Stevie’s hand. “Why are there guards?” I whispered.

Charles also sensed something was wrong and asked anxiously, "Fannie, where is he taking you? The elevator keeps going up." "Five, ten, fourteen, twenty..." Fannie looked at the continuously changing numbers on the elevator, growing anxious but trying to appear calm. "Father, where are you taking me?" she tried to ask as innocently as possible. Martin innocently smiled, "Of course, I'm taking you to the restroom." "Do we need to go upstairs to use the restroom?" Fannie displayed a smile that was even more grimace-like than crying. "You're my daughter, naturally, I can't let you go to a public place! I have a presidential suite on the top floor, where only I live. I'll take you there."

He would worry so much if he found out about the dreams. Archer drove through white sand and then into a gated mansion that seemed to have been built with Archer in mind. Despite Clarissa’s distress, she was filled with awe at what she was seeing at the moment. It looked so beautiful and magical. The White House stood as a rock overlooking a swimming pool that seemed to be gated. Archer parked the car at the side of the house and filed out. The security man came around to pay his respects. “Is this your house?” Clarissa queried.

" Liliana, who did not say a word, turned as white as a ghost. She thought back to when she picked up the report yesterday, and the way I looked at her. So calm, so still, like a pond with no ripples. I did not even think to ask for her help. She had that nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, I did not love her anymore. However, facing that truth was more than she could bear. … Despite the chaos, the surgery was a success. When I opened my eyes, it was like the world had flipped upside down. Everyone's attitude toward me changed dramatically. It was rare for them all to be together, but there they were, filling my hospital room with noise and life, a stark contrast to the quiet isolation b

Part 2 The Barack family's mansion stood grandly on a sprawling two-hectare estate, surrounded by gardens designed by a renowned architect. A towering gate engraved with the family crest was guarded by two security officers, while hidden cameras monitored every corner. Inside, marble hallways echoed with the steps of servants diligently ensuring every inch of the house remained impeccable. The Barack family was not just wealthy—they were a symbol of power and prestige in the city. In the expansive dining room, morning light streamed through velvet drapes, illuminating a long dining table set with exquisite porcelain dinnerware. At one end of the table, Mrs. Barbra Barack poured tea while spe

Iris asks. “That man… Edward Zimmer… who was there tonight.” It makes me sick just saying his name. “Have you met him before?” “No,” Iris says, followed by Violet, who says, “No.” “Has he ever been to the house before?” “Not while we’ve been there,” Iris says. I exhale a long, low breath of relief. At least, so far, they’ve been safe. “Who is he?” Violet asks. “He’s running for president,” Iris says. “The teacher has a picture of him on her desk.”

"Theo, you really do know when to roll over. Fine. If you want to embarrass yourself in public, I'll give you the chance." "But…" My tone shifted. "The livestream has to be kept from Lionel. He's the patient. If he knows that many people are watching, he might get agitated. If anything happens to him because of that, I won't be responsible." Gracie didn't think much of it and agreed readily. The next morning, I arrived at the place Gracie had chosen for the consultation, the VIP ward on the top floor of Riverside General Hospital. Two familiar people stood at the door.

Alexander The apartment was small. I noticed it the moment Vivian opened the door and stepped aside — grudgingly, with her arms crossed and her jaw set. Small living room. Secondhand couch. A stack of envelopes on the kitchen counter that had the particular look of unopened bills. The window on the far wall had a gap at the seal where the night air was getting in. Elara White had been living like this while wearing a platinum engagement ring my son bought on borrowed money.