My sister Camille smiled behind him.
“Dad is only protecting the family image,” she said softly. “You should have worn the high-neck gown.”
“My dress is already on.”
“Then postpone.”
My fiancé, Daniel Mercer, stepped forward, anger hardening his face, but I caught his wrist.
“Not here,” I whispered.
Richard leaned closer, mistaking my calm for weakness.
“Without me, you’ll walk alone,” he said. “Maybe then everyone will understand what kind of woman comes back from deployment looking like a warning.”
Then the chapel doors opened.
Every uniformed guest stood.
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