Chapter 7 - The Confrontation in the Rotunda
Daniel didn't flinch, nor did he raise his voice.
He stepped half an inch forward, placing himself between Eric and me with the calm, terrifying poise of an apex predator.
"Can I help you, son?" Daniel asked, his tone polite, frigid, and commanding enough to freeze hot water.
Eric swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently as he looked at the two silver stars gleaming on Daniel’s epaulets.
"General Mercer, sir... I... I apologize," Eric stammered, his bravado crumbling into dust. "I just... Claire and I... we used to be engaged."
Daniel’s expression didn't change in the slightest.
"I am well aware of who you are, Mr. Lawson," Daniel replied, his voice dropping into a dangerous, measured cadence.
"Claire has no secrets from me. And from what I understand, you asked her to wait in a parking lot while you played husband to your brother’s widow."
Eric’s cheeks flushed a violent crimson.
He looked past Daniel’s broad shoulder, staring directly at me with pleading, pathetic eyes.
"Claire, you have to understand," Eric begged, his voice cracking with humiliated desperation. "Megan was having complications! She lost Noah! I had an obligation to protect his family!"
"You had an obligation to the woman you promised to marry, Eric," I said, my voice quiet, clear, and utterly devoid of anger.
"You didn't have an emergency. You had a habit of treating me like a convenience."
"I came back to the restaurant!" Eric shouted, drawing the attention of two nearby Pentagon security officers.
"I was back forty-five minutes later! The cake was still there, your ring was in the frosting, and you were gone! You blocked my number! You destroyed three years over forty-five minutes!"
"You didn't come back for me, Eric," I said, meeting his frantic eyes without a trace of pity. "You came back to collect your audience. You wanted me to sit there, quiet and grateful, while you explained why Megan needed you more."
"She was carrying Noah's child!" Eric snarled, tears of rage springing to his eyes. "What kind of monster leaves a man because he helps a pregnant widow?"
"Is that what you told yourself, Eric?" I asked softly, taking a half-step toward him.
The noise of the rotunda seemed to fade into a hollow hum.
"What are you talking about?" Eric demanded, though a sudden flicker of dread passed through his gaze.
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"I’m talking about Noah’s medical discharge records from Fort Bragg, Eric," I said quietly.
Eric froze, his hands dropping to his sides as the color drained completely from his face once more.
