The aftermath of the Oval Office Incident was a blur of hurried cleanup crews, exasperated staff, and Ellie being led away by a very quiet Agatha Grimshaw. Ellie spent the rest of the day scrubbing floors in a broom closet, feeling like a pariah. She was sure her White House career, if one could call it that, was over.
That evening, as she packed her meager belongings in her tiny, rented room, expecting a pink slip any moment, her phone buzzed. It was Agatha.
"Miss Chen," Agatha's voice was unusually flat. "You are to report to the West Wing, President's office, tomorrow morning at 7:00 AM sharp."
Ellie's heart plummeted. This was it. The official dismissal. The stern lecture about international incidents caused by ink and water. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Thank you, Miss Grimshaw."
She barely slept. Her mind raced, replaying the catastrophic events. How could she have been so stupid? So clumsy? She was a walking disaster. This was why she preferred the quiet life. No presidents. No priceless rugs. Just her, her thoughts, and perhaps a small, obedient cat.
The next morning, at precisely 7:00 AM, Ellie stood outside the Oval Office, feeling like she was about to face a firing squad. She straightened her uniform, took a shaky breath, and knocked gently on the door.
"Enter," a familiar voice boomed.
She pushed the door open. The Oval Office was pristine again, no trace of the previous day's mayhem. President Sterling sat at his Resolute Desk, looking impeccably presidential. He gestured to the chair opposite him.
"Good morning, Miss Chen. Please, have a seat."
Ellie perched on the edge of the plush chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She braced herself for the inevitable.
"Miss Chen," President Sterling began, leaning forward slightly, "yesterday was... eventful."
"Yes, Mr. President. I am truly sorry. I understand if you wish to terminate my employment." She squeezed her eyes shut, ready for the axe to fall.
He paused. "Terminate your employment?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Miss Chen, do you know how many times in my career I've had someone accidentally flood my office and redecorate my rug with calligraphy ink?"
Ellie opened one eye. "Uh... zero?"
"Precisely," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It was... novel. Highly unconventional. But novel." He picked up a pen, twirling it between his fingers. "And yet, you handled it. You didn't run. You didn't cry. You tried to fix it, albeit unsuccessfully."
Ellie shifted uncomfortably. "I try my best, sir."
"Indeed. And perhaps," he continued, his gaze piercing, "your best is exactly what this office needs. A bit of... unexpectedness." He leaned back. "I've decided, Miss Chen, that I'm not going to fire you."
Ellie blinked. Once. Twice. "You're... not?"
"No," he said, the smile on his face becoming more pronounced. "In fact, I'm assigning you to the Executive Residence personally. You'll be responsible for my private quarters, the Oval Office, and generally, any area I deem requires your... unique touch." He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "And perhaps, occasionally, you can bring me a fresh Danish. Without causing a national emergency, if possible."
Ellie stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. She wasn't fired. She was promoted? To clean the President's private spaces? And bring him pastries? This was definitely not what Aunt Mei had in mind for a "change of scenery."
"Thank you, Mr. President," she managed, a bewildered grin spreading across her face. "I... I promise no more floods. Probably."
President Sterling chuckled, a surprisingly warm sound. "I look forward to it, Miss Chen. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a country to run. And a very important breakfast meeting." He gestured towards the door.
Ellie stood up, still in a daze, and walked out of the Oval Office, leaving the most powerful man in the world to his duties. She, Eleanor Chen, was still a White House cleaner. And somehow, she had just secured the most exclusive cleaning assignment in the world. This was going to be interesting. Very interesting indeed.