“May I see those copies?” Brad asked.

“Help yourself—here you go. My mom figured it all out—can you believe it? I’m very proud of her. She probably started researching Johnny’s family when she first heard I was about to get married. You might say she ran her own background check, and it’s a good thing she did—otherwise I might never have known what a scoundrel I was involved with. A girl can’t be too careful these days—there are all kinds of poseurs out there.”

“Why is this happening?” Braden moaned. “Why now?”

“Why not now?” Victoria replied. “Can you think of a better time? Don’t you think America has the right to know if the descendant of thieves and murderers is in line for the highest office in the land?”

“That was centuries ago,” Braden said. “This has nothing to do with me.”

“I’m afraid it has everything to do with you, John. It exposes you for what you really are. Sorry—no more blue blazers with gold embroidered crests and no more starched pajamas—you’re just old Johnny Braden now, an ordinary lump of Hokie Stone like the rest of us. John Henry Braden was born for the presidency—he was bred for it—he deserved it—but now you’ll have to earn it like everybody else. Like everybody else—that thought just kills you, doesn’t it? Or maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet. Well, give it time—it will.”

“That’s not the biggest problem,” Brad said, studying the documents.

“I thought you’d figure that out, Brad, since you have a law degree. Would you like to explain it to my shell-shocked husband?”

“It’s the land deeds, John. There are copies of some of the originals here; apparently some of them survived, and they’ll clearly prove that the ones your family holds are fraudulent. The original deeds are dated 1777—that’s after Virginia broke away from the Crown and became an independent commonwealth.”

“Very good, Brad,” Victoria said. “You see, John, if the deeds were dated just a couple of years earlier, then the land would have been granted by King George—and then your family could have claimed that the grants were no longer valid. Unfortunately, the land was granted under American law—right, Brad?”

“I’m afraid so,” Brad said, “and that opens up the possibility of legal challenge by surviving members of the original family.”

“Translation: They can sue to get their land back, John—every last bit of it, including the very room where you’re sitting. There goes Bradenton; there goes the Patriot Center; there goes every last penny you own.”

Braden was shaking visibly. “No one has to know this. We can find the originals—we can cover this up.”