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The Fortress at the Graveside
Vanessa noticed.
“Demi,” she called out sharply, snapping her fingers like I was staff. “We’re out of ice. Go grab another bag from the freezer.”
Several heads turned.
I didn’t move.
“And could you change out of that uniform?” she added with a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s so aggressive. This is a family gathering, not a military drill.”
A ripple of polite chuckles followed. The kind people use when they don’t want to be the target.
I clenched my jaw and picked up the empty ice bucket. Not because she ordered me to, but because I needed distance before I said something that would ignite the room too early.
I filled the bucket slowly, letting the clatter of ice steady my breathing. From the other room, Darren’s voice rose, confident and booming, the practiced cadence of a man who believed himself impressive.
“To a good man,” he said. “Vanessa and I spared no expense for his care. Private nurses. Top doctors. We wanted to make sure he was comfortable in his final days.”
My hands froze.
