Chapter 262: Approachable

In the blink of an eye, two days passed quickly. On the evening of Lynch’s third day in Eminence, preparations began for a celebration at a countryside estate hosted by the President himself.

After lunch, Lynch and Severella received notification and itinerary details. They were scheduled to arrive at the estate around 5:15 p.m. Honestly, the timing was quite early, but it couldn’t be helped.

Lynch wasn’t an influential businessman or a powerful politician. To many, including the President, he was just a lucky man.

He happened to propose a coincidental idea at the right moment, coincidentally caught the President’s attention, and it was coincidentally spoken by the President himself. These coincidences made this trip possible.

Early or not, he should be grateful.

Around 4:30 p.m., there was a knock on the door. Two waitstaff, obviously FBI agents—a man and a woman—entered. They conducted a no-refusal search of Lynch and Severella’s belongings and checked their rooms for any dangerous items.

They then escorted the two downstairs and into a designated vehicle.

When Severella sat down, Lynch heard her quietly sigh. He glanced at her, and she smiled, “A little nervous.”

She wasn’t telling the whole truth. Although in her twenties, she sometimes still thought like a child. She wanted to prove her worth to her father and family, so she had come here.

She had expected to handle these situations easily, having faced similar ones before, like events held by governors or congress members.

But now, she was nervous because the person beside her was not her father, who seemed to have everything under control, but a young man who needed her help.

This time, no one would cover for her mistakes. If she embarrassed herself, people would only laugh.

At that moment, she vaguely realized she wasn’t as strong as she thought.

The car smoothly drove out of the city. Around 5:00 p.m., the vehicle slowed and stopped by the roadside.

The driver explained that strict entry times were enforced. The President, his aides, and staff wanted to give guests a personal, friendly impression. Brief conversations were the simplest, cheapest, and most effective way.

This meant guests couldn’t rush in all at once. Each pair had to wait until the previous pair finished their greetings.

At about 5:13 p.m., the car started again, stopping on the road outside the estate. The greeters opened the door. Lynch stepped out first and reached for Severella’s hand as they exited.

The weather was still cold, but for the sake of elegant and appropriate clothing, neither wore heavy coats. Severella even wore a backless evening gown (with a light jacket, but not thick).

“A bit cold…” she quietly whispered to Lynch, implying they should walk faster. She maintained a sweet smile toward the surrounding media and photographers as they walked.

Lynch quickened his pace. Except for some seeking extra exposure, most people disliked such attention but had to go through the motions.

This celebration was also the President’s way of showing society and his supporters his position.

He had strong backing—political, business, and from other elites. This reassured many and demonstrated his power. Knowing who attended was important.

Reporters admired Lynch and Severella’s looks and poise. Without the guest list, they might have mistaken them for celebrities.

They quickly crossed the red carpet, bypassed the grand fountain outside the estate, and, guided by staff, entered the house.

The estate was larger than Lynch had imagined—more of a mansion.

Its architecture, with distinct historical style, gave a heavy, dignified feel. Passing a short corridor, they entered a spacious hall.

Inside, Lynch handed over both his and Severella’s coats to the staff, who recorded their names to ensure quick retrieval after the event.

Not far away, the President was talking with others. Lynch and Severella waited at a distance for about a minute. After the handshake ended, staff led them over.

“You must be Lynch!” The President was sixty-one, with heavily graying hair. Some had suggested he dye it dark to hide the signs of aging, making him appear more vigorous—important traits for a President.

But he refused, saying he wanted to show his true self to the public. Dyeing his hair would be no different than lying; both deceive the people.

This stance gave him a distinct image among ordinary citizens, earning him the nickname The Truthful President.

Interestingly, all this had happened recently. Before the previous President’s impeachment, few knew or cared about the Vice President. Seventy percent of the population barely remembered him.

But in a short time, his image had become vivid and solid—proof of the power and value of social public relations. People accepted him quickly.

The President himself worked hard. He recognized Lynch immediately, which flattered Lynch. Despite many checks on his power, he was publicly the highest authority in the country.

Lynch stepped forward. “It’s me, Mr. President. Honestly, I’m surprised you remember my name!”

They shook hands, their grip lingering. Lynch felt warmth, partly from leaving the cold outside.

More than that, he sensed the strength in the President’s hand—not that of an old man, but a vigorous middle-aged man.

The President smiled. “Of course I remember. When I saw that report, it stuck with me. You don’t know how much your words helped our work. Maybe we can talk more about these issues sometime.”

Lynch was a bit honored but didn’t take the offer seriously—it was just polite talk, time would never be found.

“I’m honored my ideas could help. Always ready at your call, Mr. President,” Lynch responded formally. It felt like a performance—both amusing and dull.

They released hands. The President shook Severella’s hand next. “I know you, Mr. Wadrick’s daughter. He always boasts about how beautiful his daughter is. Though I’m reluctant to admit it, he’s right.”

Severella was pleasantly surprised. Women’s status was still low in this era. Presidents rarely spoke much with guests’ female companions beyond formal greetings. This was unusually warm.

This was largely due to Wadrick—Severella’s father—whose consortium was a key supporter of the Progressive Party. Another person might not have received the same treatment.

She politely thanked the President’s praise, congratulated him on his office, and wished him success in his next two terms.

According to the Federal Constitution, if the President is unable to continue his duties for any reason, the Vice President automatically becomes President.

This does not affect his future terms; he can still run for election and, if re-elected, serve two full terms—four plus four years.

If the current President wins re-election, ten years in office would greatly expand his power, especially as his control over federal institutions and society deepened. His backing by the Progressive Party and consortia would make it hard to challenge him, let alone conspiracy theories about manipulation.

Severella’s accurate remarks brought more smiles to the President’s face. “I hope you both enjoy a pleasant evening…”

After bidding the President farewell, the staff guided Lynch and Severella into the hall behind him.“I thought someone else would greet us.” After entering the event, Lynch took two glasses of wine from the waiter’s tray and handed one to Severella.

They clinked glasses and took a sip. The girl looked puzzled. “I’m not sure either. He should come out a bit later.”