The guards open the door to the presidents office, as you walk inside following them. The president of the M.G.T.C.F was a woman in her 40s with long blonde hair, F-Cup breasts, was wearing glasses, a black business skirt, with matching jacket, a green vest with no shirt under it, gray stockings, and black high-heeled shoes.
You sit in the chair in front of her desk just after she notices you. "President Miranda," the guard explains. "We've brought the subject you wanted to see." "Very good, Perkins," Miranda says. "You both can leave now. I want to talk with him alone." The guards nod, and exit the room. Your wrists were still locked up in the magnetic cuffs, and still you stood silent. "So, I'm glad you could come to my office," Miranda explains to you. "You've been awfully quiet since the day you arrived, haven't you?"
All you did was nod, after President Miranda asked you those questions. "Now, you're probably wondering about how your parents are doing, right?" Miranda asks. "Well there's something you should actually know. The White's were only your caring for you. You weren't really born in their family." You raise an eyebrow, over your long bangs. "The truth is, I had my guards bring you to the White's while you were a baby before I became president of the M.G.T.C.F, I gave you to the White's while I continued with my job," Miranda explains. "All I'm trying to say is, Devon I'm your real mother." Your mouth opens the second Miranda told you those words.