Chapter 29
Catherine wondered how she would ever be able to feign shock and sorrow, never realizing it would soon come all too cruelly naturally.
She woke that morning and, wrapping herself in her pink robe, flung open the door to her bedroom and ran down the hall, calling for Vaughn, the head of her Secret Service detail.
“Vaughn, thank God, come quickly. I can’t seem to wake the president up.”
She imagined people thought she was in a state of shock as she sat on the divan in her bedroom suite, ramrod straight, her hands folded ladylike in her lap. But all the while, she was thinking: How will I pull this off when I feel nothing but relief and an almost giddy, gleeful, exhilarating sense of freedom? She found by appearing neutral, she had become the tabula rasa of others’ feelings and
