Pregnant by the President

[Sera]

After a long day of endless chores and working at my foster family's convenience store, my cheek still stung from the slap my foster father, Harold Walker had given me for miscounting the register. The shower had washed away the grime, but not the humiliation. Now, finally alone in my attic refuge, I could focus on what truly mattered.

My fingers trembled as I refreshed the email page for what felt like the hundredth time. I glanced nervously at my bedroom door—really just a converted attic space with a mattress on the floor and some architectural sketches taped to the sloping walls.

I had to be careful not to let anyone discover what I was doing up here. If my foster brother found out I was applying to colleges behind their backs, he'd lose his mind. Zack had been making increasingly inappropriate comments lately, cornering me in hallways and "accidentally" brushing against me. The way he looked at me made my skin crawl.

A chilly autumn breeze whistled through the small gap in my window, making the newspaper clippings of famous buildings flutter against the wall. My design portfolio had taken months to complete, stolen moments at the public library when I could escape the house. Tonight was the deadline for acceptance notices.

"Please," I whispered to no one in particular, clutching the key-shaped pendant my mother had left me. "This might be my only chance to get out."

As the page refreshed again, a new email appeared. My heart stopped.

From: Halloway University, Department of Architecture and Urban Design

Subject: Application Decision

I clicked it with shaking hands.

Dear Sera Ginger,

A gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it. Full scholarship. They were giving me a full scholarship! I couldn't help the small cry of joy that broke free as I read the email three more times.

Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs. My door crashed open without warning, and my foster father Harold Walker's imposing figure filled the doorway, reeking of cheap whiskey.

"What was that noise? You making a racket up there at this hour?" he slurred, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. "It's past midnight, for crying out loud."

I quickly tried to close the laptop, but Harold was already staggering toward me, grabbing it from my hands. His bleary eyes focused on the screen, his expression shifting from irritation to fury.

"Architecture school? Full scholarship?" His voice rose to a roar. "You think you're going somewhere? You're not going anywhere, missy! We've invested too much in you to let you just run off!"

Meredith's shrill voice followed as she appeared in the doorway. "What's all the shouting about?"

"Look at this!" Harold thrust the laptop toward her. "Our little princess thinks she's leaving us!"

Just then, heavy footsteps announced Zack's arrival. He stumbled into the room, beer bottle in hand, his greasy hair hanging in his eyes. "What's going on?" he mumbled, then his gaze fell on me sitting on the bed. That familiar hungry look crept across his face.

Meredith noticed immediately. "Look at her! Always trying to seduce my son! Prancing around in those little pajamas!" she shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at me.

Zack's eyes lit up as he spotted the laptop screen. "College? You're trying to leave?" His expression darkened, and he took a menacing step toward me. "I don't think so. You're staying right here, having my babies and running our convenience store for the rest of your life."

My blood ran cold. "No, I won't—"

"Maybe it's time I showed you exactly where you belong," he growled, his other hand reaching for me as he pushed me back onto the mattress.

Just then, a shrill ringtone cut through the tension. Harold's cell phone lit up, vibrating across the nightstand.

Harold's bloodshot eyes widened as he looked at the screen. "It's... it's Hector Ginger," he stammered, suddenly standing straighter.

The room went dead silent. Even Zack froze mid-motion. he stammered, suddenly standing straighter. He shot me a suspicious glance before answering. "Hello, Mr. Ginger, sir. What a pleasant surprise..."

Meredith gasped, immediately smoothing her hair and nightgown. She mouthed "Your father?" at me, her expression changing from contempt to artificial sweetness in an instant.

"Yes, sir... she's right here, sir... of course, a video call would be... we'll set it up right away," Harold fumbled with the phone, his drunken state seemingly evaporating in the face of my father's call.

"Come downstairs," he ordered, suddenly acting completely sober. "Your father wants to see you. Now."

Twenty minutes later, I sat stiffly on the edge of the living room sofa. The Walkers had forced me to change into my cleanest shirt and even combed my hair. Meredith pinched my arm hard. "Smile. Show your father how well we've taken care of you."

The video call connected, and my breath caught in my throat. There he was—Hector Ginger. God, it had been so long I barely recognized him. Twelve years can change a person, I guess. His hair had some gray now, but those eyes... those were exactly the same. Cold. Distant. Like he was checking out some product he might buy.

It all felt so weird. This man was supposed to be my dad, but he was basically a stranger.

Looking at his face that day, I remembered exactly why I'd ended up with the Walkers. It wasn't because my real family couldn't afford to keep me—it was because they simply didn't want me.

One day I had a home, the next I was sent away. All because Penelope—who started as our housekeeper before somehow becoming his wife—didn't want another woman's child around after she'd secured her position. I was just the unwanted reminder of my father's previous marriage.

He nodded briefly at the Walkers before his gaze settled on me. I felt like a specimen under a microscope as his eyes traveled over my face. "You've grown," he said finally, his mouth twitching slightly.

The video call had that familiar awkward tension - my father, stone-faced and formal, me trying not to fidget under his scrutiny. The Walkers stood silently behind me, tense and watchful.

My father didn't waste time with pleasantries. "It's time for you to come home," he stated, looking directly at me.

My heart skipped a beat. Home? After all these years? A childish hope flickered inside me—maybe he'd finally realized what he'd done, sending away his own daughter. Maybe he'd missed me.

"I have some good news for you," he said, his tone carrying that familiar condescending edge, as if he were bestowing some great favor upon me. "This weekend is your eighteenth birthday. I've arranged for you to meet a suitable bachelor from a prominent family—a gentleman who prefers... younger, more traditional women. Pure ones." His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied my face through the screen. "You have been conducting yourself appropriately there, haven't you? Remaining a good girl?"

I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. After twelve years of silence, this was what my father chose to discuss with me—whether I was still a virgin.