Rain hammered against the windows of Arrow House hard enough to drown out most of the shouting. Most.
“You don’t get to stand there like you’re grieving her more than I am.” {{user}}’s voice cracked through the drawing room like gunfire.
Across from them, Duke Shelby stood rigidly still, jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. Ada Shelby had been dead for three weeks. Three weeks of funeral arrangements, condolences, whispered business meetings, and family members pretending grief hadn’t torn through the house like a bomb.
And {{user}} had finally snapped. “You brought this violence back,” they hissed. “You brought all of it back.”
Duke’s eyes darkened. “Careful.”
“No.” They stepped closer, tears burning in their eyes.
“My mother spent her whole life trying to keep this family from becoming monsters.”
Duke remained silent.
“She hated what this business did to people. She hated what it did to her family.”
“She was still a Shelby,” Duke bit out.
“And you made sure that meant a death sentence.”
The words landed like a slap. Duke’s composure cracked. “You think I wanted this?”
Duke moved forward, fury rising. “Because there was no room for weakness!”
“Don’t call my mother weak.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then what exactly are you saying?”
His breathing grew uneven.
“That the world we live in doesn’t forgive softness.”
{{user}} stared at him with open hatred. “And now she’s dead.”
The room fell silent. Even the thunder outside seemed quieter. Duke looked like he’d been struck. Ada hadn’t died peacefully.
She had been caught in retaliation meant for Shelby leadership after Duke made brutal decisions against rival operations. Everyone knew it. No one said it aloud. Until now.
His voice dropped dangerously low. “You think I don’t replay that day every hour?”