January 2, 1897.
The White House, Washington D.C.
The morning after the announcement of Amber's pregnancy, Matthew awoke to the soft glow of winter sunlight filtering through the heavy drapes of the presidential bedroom. The warmth of the previous night still lingered in his chest, but reality quickly reminded him that life as President of Amerathia did not allow for much time to dwell in personal joy.
Lying beside him, Amber was still fast asleep, curled on her side with one hand resting gently on her stomach. The sight made him smile. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Matthew slipped out of bed, threw on his robe, and stepped out into the adjacent sitting room, where the crackling fireplace offered a reprieve from the January chill.
The peace didn't last long. Collins was already waiting.
"Sir," his chief of staff greeted, holding a stack of morning briefings. "We need to talk."
