A month had passed since they’d last assembled at the massive property tucked behind a high wall and locked gate. Over the years, the owners of the historic home had welcomed presidents, political operatives, and Supreme Court justices. The structure’s size still confused many passersby into thinking it was a school. Little did they know the people inside used the spectacular house to carry out spectacular work.

Inclusion in the private group grew out of a carefully curated list and remained limited. No one could wander in or bring a guest. Potential new members—something of a rarity, for obvious reasons—had to pass a rigorous background check and be vetted by more than one existing member.

The rules required that the vote to consider issuing an invitation be unanimous, followed by a probationary period where the potential candidate underwent an assessment then another vote before the formal invitation. All of this occurred without the candidate ever knowing they were being considered for membership. That was the only way for an ongoing enterprise like this to work. Strict compliance. Complete secrecy. Unbending commitment.

No one had passed the intense scrutiny or been considered for membership in more than two years. Until now.

The monthly agenda didn’t allow for a lot of socializing, but at the start of each meeting the members talked about families and work as they settled into oversized chairs in what used to be the music room of the three-story white stone mansion in Chevy Chase, Maryland, just outside of Washington, DC. The one with the split staircase in the entry and the second-floor grand ballroom, complete with an orchestra pit.

This brief initial icebreaking time worked as a bridge between their lives out there and the work they did in this room. Those precious ten minutes, never longer, allowed for the pressures of the day to ease and a calming breath before handling an ever-growing list of serious business.

They were busy women. Some drank wine after a long, tedious day. Others stuck to water, wanting top mental acuity for the meeting. None took what they did for granted.

“Let’s get started.” As usual, that was enough to stop the talk and begin the meeting. “A motion has been made to reconsider an individual for membership. The previous two votes were not unanimous. We must begin—”

“Dissecting her life and testing her endurance.”

A round of murmurs and seat shifting followed the statement from the back of the room. Most of the women turned to the files in front of them. Some sat almost at attention, as if excited to weigh in.

The leader didn’t flinch. “The old system may seem draconian, but we all survived it. As it stands now, it is the best way to assess commitment, drive, and ability to handle our workload.”