She stopped midsentence because a blond woman dressed in a black suit with an earpiece strode into the room and stood by the doorway like a sentry. Secret Service. Behind the woman came two more agents.

A flash of electric delight rocketed through Natalie as she stood, swallowing hard and straightened out her skirt and blouse. On instinct she glanced back to check that the camera was ready, and found Dasha two feet behind her already rolling tape. Knowing Dasha had her back, Natalie turned with confidence to find herself face-to-face with First Lady Anita Crusoe. The woman was striking. At least five foot ten in heels, she had flawless olive skin set against a yellow blouse, with perfect posture and soft, almost sad, eyes.

Next to her was a handsome man with salt-and-pepper hair she recognized instantly. Anthony Cantrell.

He’s here?

Suddenly everything seemed off center as Natalie felt a sharp sting of doubt. The First Lady didn’t leave because of the pipeline? My god. It was just an affair after all.

Sitting opposite Anita Crusoe and Anthony Cantrell, Natalie had no typed-out questions and no need to check her plan with anyone. She knew the material. She was ready to go.

“Thank you for sitting down with me, Mrs. Crusoe,” Natalie said.

“Thank you, Natalie,” the First Lady replied in a controlled voice without a hint of an accent. “There have been so many rumors and false reports, I wanted to correct the record.”

“Let’s start with the man by your side, Mrs. Crusoe, Anthony Cantrell. There has been a great deal of speculation about your relationship. Are you lovers?”

A flash of irritation crossed the First Lady’s face, but it dissolved quickly. “No. I have never betrayed my husband. This is Anthony. He is my sober companion,” the First Lady said, indicating Anthony.

Not a sex scandal, Natalie thought, feeling a new swell of anticipation.

FLOTUS continued, glancing at the man beside her. “I have been sober for most of my adult life, but as a younger woman I had a drinking problem. At times it’s still a struggle. So that part of your story was right, Natalie. I am a recovering alcoholic.”

Natalie winced. She was struck by how awkward it felt to sit opposite the person she’d been covering as a “character” in a TV narrative. How strange that she, Natalie, had been one of this woman’s tormenters.

“The pressures of the White House have recently begun to take their toll, and Anthony is helping me through.” The First Lady turned and smiled at Anthony. “He is a steady presence in my life and a consummate mental health professional. He keeps me on the path when I need him. I’m deeply grateful to him.”