The words seemed to hang in the air.
Heavy.
Impossible.
Dangerous.
I was married.
Cassandra Kingsley stood perfectly still.
The letter remained in Camille's trembling hands.
And for the first time since anyone in that room had ever known Cassandra
she looked vulnerable.
Not weak.
Never weak.
But exposed.
Like a door had suddenly been opened into a part of her life she had spent decades keeping locked.
Victor was the first to react.
Naturally.
"What?"
Elena immediately stepped on his shoe.
Hard.
Victor yelped.
"Ouch."
"Be quiet."
"I was expressing confusion."
"You were being dramatic."
"I am always dramatic."
Nobody disagreed.
The silence returned.
Cassandra slowly walked toward one of the windows.
Moonlight spilled across the polished floor.
For several long seconds she simply stared into the darkness outside.
Thinking.
Remembering.
Trying to decide how much to say.
Finally
"He died."
The room remained quiet.
Camille carefully set the letter down.
