Chapter 5
Finn surged forward, pulling Celeste upright with battlefield efficiency.
His thumb brushed her tears away–a tenderness Stella had never received.
“I misjudged your capacity for cruelty,” he told Stella, arm locking around Celeste’s waist.
“Withdraw the charges or not–not a single attorney in D.C. will defy the Corps to take your case.”
He exited with Celeste without breaking stride.
“Monster!” Liam grabbed a blood orange from the bedside tray and hurled it. Pulp exploded against Stella’s cheekbone.
Fiona followed with a crystal vase. Glass shards sliced Stella’s forehead crimson.
The children vanished, leaving blood blooming on hospital linen.
“Ms. Morrow?” A nurse peeked through the doorway. “Call for you.”
Stella took the receiver, skin still stinging from citrus acid.
“Metropolitan PD,” the officer’s voice was arctic. “Per JAG Corps directive, your case is declined. Pursue this elsewhere.”
The phone clattered to the floor.
Serum–soaked rage bubbled into laughter that shook Stella’s bandaged ribs.
The life she’d carried. The man she’d cherished.
“Charges withdrawn,” she told the empty room.
Two days post–discharge, Stella returned to Fort Belvoir quarters to find Celeste holding court on the Chesterfield sofa–Liam and Fiona nestled against her like prized show poodles.
Finn emerged from his study, dress blues radiating frost. “With you… indisposed… Celeste agreed to temporary billet. The children prefer her supervision.”
His gaze swept over Stella’s bandaged arms. “Given your demonstrated lack of investment in parental duties.”
Stella’s laugh carried zero warmth as she strode past him.
What followed was domestic disarmament:
Laundry: Fatigues volcanoed from the mudroom
Floors: Dust coated the Silver Star display case
Kitchen: Rancid MRE packets festered in the sink
By day five, the stench of spoiled beef Stroganoff hung like chemical warfare residue
Finn kicked her bedroom door open. “Your performance ends now!”
Stella didn’t look up from Broadcast News Fundamentals. “I don’t recall auditioning.”
“Explain the biohazard you’ve created!”
Stella closed her textbook with a snap, “I have aspirations beyond stain removal.”
Liam stormed in, fists clenched. “Aspirations? You’re a housekeeper!”
Fiona charged into Stella’s room, lips puckered like she’d bitten sour rations. “You’re just lazy! This is revenge for what happened at the hospital-”
Her words snagged mid–accusation. But lethal venom still glinted in her eyes, sharp enough to draw blood from ten paces.
Chapter 5
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Stella’s smile cut cold. “Why isn’t Celeste handling domestic operations?”
“She’s a trauma surgeon!” Liam exploded. “Not your
maid!”
“Aunt Celeste tutors us in French oncology!” Fiona sneered. “What’s your expertise? Microwave timers?”
Each word pierced deeper than glass shards.
“Enough.” Finn cut her off with the snap of a parade–ground command. “I’ve got no bandwidth for your maudlin moods. Dismissed.”
He flung two platinum–embossed tickets onto her duvet. “You’ve whined for years about skating.”
His eyes frosted over. “Post–recreation, normalcy resumes.”
The door slammed hard enough to rattle her degree frame.
Stella lifted the tickets–the Ice Galleria passes Finn had mocked as “juvenile distractions.” Thirty years she’d begged; now they felt like prison visitation passes.
Chapter 5
