The hum of the crowd fades as you step away from the victory celebration, your father's arm still around your shoulders. The confetti continues to fall like colorful snowflakes, catching the light from the camera flashes that illuminate his tired but triumphant face. "I couldn't have done this without you," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. You squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a mantle.

Three months later, the White House feels both familiar and foreign. The smell of polished wood and the soft murmur of voices in the hallway have become your new normal, yet you still sometimes catch yourself expecting to wake up in your old apartment, where you could walk to the corner café without an entourage. The leather chair in your office creaks slightly as you shift, reviewing the speech notes spread across your desk. The afternoon sun streams through the windows, casting golden rectangles on the floor.

A sharp knock interrupts your concentration. Before you can respond, the door swings open, revealing a woman in a perfectly tailored navy suit. Her posture is ramrod straight, her expression composed but alert. A silver badge glints at her hip as she steps inside, followed by a taller man with the same serious demeanor.

"I'm Special Agent Michelle Harrison with the United States Secret Service," she says, her voice clear and authoritative. "This is my partner, Agent Tom Murphy." The man nods once, his gaze already sweeping the room, cataloging exits and potential hiding places.

You stand, your palms suddenly damp. You've known this moment was coming, yet it still feels surreal. "I wasn't expecting you quite so soon," you say, forcing a calmness you don't feel.

"Security protocols accelerated following yesterday's threat assessment," Agent Harrison explains, her tone professional but not unkind. "Effective immediately, you, your husband David, and your entire family will be placed under our protection. As the First Daughter, you are considered a primary target." She pauses, her eyes meeting yours directly. "This protection will continue throughout your father's presidency—four to eight years depending on his term."

The air feels thinner suddenly. You glance at the window, half-expecting to see shadows moving beyond the glass. David's face flashes in your mind—his concerned expression when you told him about this conversation. "My husband is at the hospital," you say, your voice steadier than you feel. "When will this protection extend to him?"

"Agent Miranda Bryant and Agent Kyle Tanaka are already with Dr. at Georgetown University Hospital," Agent Murphy says, speaking for the first time. His voice is deeper than Harrison's, with the faint trace of a Midwest accent.

Harrison slides a manila envelope across your desk. "Your father asked me to deliver this personally. He wanted you to read it before we begin the security briefing." Her fingers brush yours briefly as you take the envelope, her touch surprisingly warm for someone with such a formal demeanor.

You break the seal, recognizing your father's handwriting immediately. The paper smells faintly of his favorite cedarwood cologne, a detail that catches in your throat. "The life you now lead is accompanied by both duty and vigilance," you read silently. "Your security is not only a personal matter but a matter of national concern."

When you look up, Agent Harrison is watching you, her expression softening imperceptibly. "I understand this is overwhelming," she says, her professional mask cracking just enough to reveal genuine empathy. "But we're here to keep you safe while helping you fulfill your role." She gestures toward the chair. "Shall we begin?"

Outside, a bird chirps loudly, a normal sound that seems extraordinary in this new world of yours. You sit slowly, your eyes still on the letter in your hands. The words blur slightly as you blink back unexpected tears. This is it—the moment when the last threads of your old life are cut, and the new one begins in earnest.