My mother slowly raised her head.
The color had drained from her face.
Dad pointed an accusing finger toward Marcus.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A woman wearing the same gray suit stepped out from the group.
“We know enough.”
She displayed her badge.
“Assistant Attorney General Denise Walker. Mr. Whitmore, we have a warrant.”
Whispers immediately spread through the chapel.
Dad scanned the room, almost expecting one of his influential friends to rescue him. Instead, the members of the Chamber of Commerce suddenly became fascinated by the stained-glass windows.
My mother rose carefully to her feet.
“Richard,” she said, her voice trembling. “Tell me this isn’t true.”
He snapped back immediately.
“Sit down, Helen.”
Everything changed in that instant.
My mother recoiled slightly but remained standing.
For the first time in my life, I witnessed my father truly unravel in public. Not the controlled irritation he usually displayed. Not the polished image of a strict family patriarch.
