Chapter 4 - The Tide Turns
A collective gasp swept through the hall.
The socialites and civic leaders who had moments ago smiled alongside Richard Ellison suddenly shifted their weight, pulling back as if the family were radioactive. Several retired generals at the head table set their napkins aside, their faces hardened into stone masks of disgust.
Della’s lips trembled. She looked around desperately, expecting to see sympathetic nods, expecting someone to laugh at the rough military jargon. Instead, she was met with an impenetrable wall of cold, condemning eyes. Women in couture gowns glared at her with unvarnished contempt. Men who held multimillion-dollar defense contracts turned their backs entirely.
“I... I didn’t know,” Della stammered, her voice losing its brittle superiority. “She never told us that! She never talks about it!”
“Because real heroes don’t use their blood as dinner party conversation,” a voice called from the crowd. It belonged to the city’s Mayor, seated beside the base commander.
Richard felt the ground beneath him liquefy. His entire social and business standing in Colorado Springs depended on his patriotic philanthropy. He had spent decades portraying himself as the proud patriarch of a civic-minded empire, subtly diminishing Nora’s military service as an act of rebellion while parading Della as his brilliant, cultured prodigy.
“Nora,” Richard hissed under his breath, stepping close to her, his teeth gritted in panic. “Fix this. Tell them it was a misunderstanding. Tell them Della didn’t mean it.”
Nora looked at her father. For twenty years, she had searched that face for approval, for warmth, for a single indication that her survival, her dignity, or her life mattered as much as Della’s whims. All she saw now was a desperate, vain man terrified that his social camouflage had washed away.
“Why should I fix what she broke, Dad?” Nora asked, her tone even and calm.
“Because she’s your sister!” Richard snarled, his mask cracking completely. “And because I am your father! You owe this family your loyalty!”
“Loyalty?” Nora echoed softly. “When I spent six months in physical rehabilitation at Walter Reed learning how to lift my left arm again, you visited once. You stayed for fifteen minutes, complained about the parking, and then left early because Della had an appointment at her hair salon. Della didn’t even send a text.”
Della flushed violently. “You were fine! You had the government taking care of you!”
May you like
“I had soldiers taking care of me,” Nora corrected, looking Della dead in the eyes. “Men and women who bleed for each other. That ribbon isn't jewelry, Della. It’s a marker of blood shed in service of something bigger than your vanity. You are unfit to even look at it.”
***
