Chapter 2

Katherine "Kate" Powell POV:

The cab from the hotel dropped me off at the Hayes mansion just before midnight. The massive house was completely dark, cold, and unwelcoming. I walked upstairs and sat on the edge of my bed in that same evening gown, staring blankly at the wall until seven in the morning. My heart felt completely hollow, but I forced myself to stay awake. I could not let my parents' heroic spirits worry about my pathetic state.

Sunlight sliced through the blinds, casting long shadows onto the empty half of the mattress. Emerson hadn't come home. He had chosen to spend the night of his triumph with his mistress, completely abandoning the wife who had built his throne.

I looked down at the phone resting in my lap. I had called him five times throughout the long, agonizing night, hoping he would at least have the decency to show up for my parents. Every single call went unanswered.

A wave of sharp physical pain washed over my chest. Standing up, I walked into the walk in closet, unzipped the expensive designer gown he had picked out for me, and let it pool on the floor like discarded trash. I pulled out a tailored, black formal suit. It was the suit I wore to my graduation, the suit that represented my true self. Buttoning the jacket made me feel less like Emerson Hayes's unwanted, neglected wife and once again like the proud, unbroken daughter of Robert and Helen Powell.

At eight forty-five, just as I was about to leave, my phone finally buzzed on the dresser. I picked it up. The screen flashed with the name of my mother-in-law, Carol Hayes.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice hoarse from a sleepless night.

"Kate, what kind of selfish, ungrateful tantrum are you throwing now?" Carol's shrill, commanding voice barked through the speaker, making my eardrum ring. "Alize accidentally sliced her finger with a kitchen knife this morning! She was trying to make breakfast for Emerson because you, his useless wife, were not there to do your duty! He rushed her to the emergency room. Can't you be a little understanding and stop acting like a spoiled child? You only care about your own trivial matters!"

A cold, mocking smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. Sliced her finger with a kitchen knife? He abandoned his solemn promise to receive my parents' ashes, the ashes of national heroes, for a minor kitchen accident? And his mother had the audacity to blame me for not cooking breakfast?

"You really should tell him to hurry," I said, my voice dripping with absolute ice. "If Emerson drives any slower, Alize's tiny kitchen scratch might actually scab over. She might not even need a band-aid by the time they reach the doctor."

"How dare you speak to me like that! You uneducated—"

I hung up the phone before Carol could scream her next vile insult. Tossing the phone into my purse, I picked up my keys and walked out the front door.

A heavy wave of grief washed over me as I stood in the driveway. I had failed to give my parents a proper welcome, all because I had trusted a worthless, lying coward. But I swore right then and there, I wouldn't shed another tear for Emerson Hayes. If he thought he could cast me aside over a kitchen scratch and let his family trample on my dignity, he was gravely mistaken. I would take back every single line of code, every complex algorithm, and every bit of technical support I had secretly provided to his company. I wanted to see how long his glorious tech empire would survive without my brain behind it.

I climbed into my old Jeep parked in the driveway, the vehicle I had bought with my very first project bonus years ago, long before Emerson had a dime to his name, and pulled out onto the street. Turning on the stereo, I let my father's favorite classical music fill the cabin as I drove across the bridge toward Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn.

At nine o'clock sharp, I pulled up to the security checkpoint at the military base. Two armed sentries stepped forward, their faces stern, and raised their hands to stop my Jeep.

I rolled down the window and handed over my ID along with an official Department of Defense clearance document.

The guard glanced at the golden seal and the names on the paper. His posture snapped straight instantly. He spoke urgently into his shoulder radio, stepped back, and delivered a crisp, perfect salute as the heavy iron gates slid open.

A young officer waiting inside guided my car to the base's grand Hall of Honor.

When I pushed open the heavy double doors of the hall, a tall man with silver hair and a chest full of medals turned around. It was General Arthur Donovan, my parents' former commanding officer and a close family friend.

He walked straight to me, his boots clicking on the floor, and pulled me into a firm, fatherly embrace.

"Welcome home, Kate. We've been waiting for you," he said gently.

He pulled back and glanced over my shoulder toward the empty doorway, his thick brow furrowing in confusion. "Where is your husband? He was supposed to be here to support you."

"He had a severe medical emergency to attend to. His friend sliced her finger while making breakfast," I replied evenly, not bothering to hide the cold, bitter mockery in my eyes.

General Donovan's face hardened with instant, terrifying fury. "Foolish, blind boy. He has absolutely no idea what he just threw away. Your parents were the greatest heroes of this nation, and you, Katherine, possess a brilliant mind that the Department of Defense highly values. You are a genius in your own right. If that arrogant family ever disrespects you or makes you shed a single tear, you tell me. The entire United States military will crush them without a second thought."

I nodded once, a spark of true power and confidence returning to my veins.

He raised his hand to signal the start of the ceremony. As the national anthem began to play, two honor guards marched forward in slow, precise steps, carrying two beautiful wooden urns draped in folded American flags. Every soldier in the hall raised a hand in a crisp salute.

I held out both hands and took the two heavy boxes against my chest, my breath catching as the cool wood pressed through my suit jacket. I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of their sacrifice.

After the ceremony, I carefully secured the urns inside the passenger seat of my Jeep, buckling the seatbelt over them as if I were protecting my parents themselves. I slid behind the wheel and started the engine. The radio automatically resumed playing the classical symphony, but my mind was completely silent. I pulled out of the military base, steering the car back toward Manhattan. I needed to return to the Hayes mansion to pack my belongings and take my parents to a proper resting place. But as the grand iron gates of the base closed behind me in the rearview mirror, I knew a different kind of battlefield was waiting for me inside that house. I pressed my foot down on the gas pedal, speeding toward the upcoming storm.