Chapter 5 - Exposed Ambition
The wedding ceremony went ahead, but the energy had completely warped.
Spencer stood at the altar looking like a condemned man waiting for the trapdoor to drop. Every time he tried to make loving eye contact with Victoria, her gaze slid past him, drifting with cool skepticism toward where I sat: in the front row, directly beside General Arthur Kensington, while my mother and father sat three seats down, trembling in silent humiliation.
Margot kept darting terrified looks at me. Every time General Kensington leaned over to whisper a question about my deployments or ask about my transition to civilian intelligence, Margot would flinch as if struck by a whip. Emmett stared rigidly ahead, clutching his program so tightly the paper crumpled into pulp.
When the ceremony concluded and the guests moved into the grand ballroom for the reception, the power dynamic had completely inverted.
Spencer had spent six months bragging to the country club set that his family was "deeply connected" to high-level defense investments and that he had single-handedly organized several patriotic charity foundations. But within thirty minutes of the reception beginning, the cracks turned into canyons.
Guests who had previously snubbed me flocked to the table where General Kensington had seated me.
"Captain Ramsey," a retired rear admiral said, raising his glass to me. "I read the after-action report on the Sangin extraction. The tactical composure you displayed was extraordinary."
"Thank you, Admiral," I said quietly, taking a polite sip of sparkling water.
Meanwhile, Spencer and Margot were hovering at the edge of the circle, desperate to wedge themselves back into relevance. Spencer forced a hearty, nervous laugh, stepping forward with his champagne glass raised.
"Yes, well, Griffin’s always been the adventurous one!" Spencer announced, his voice a pitch too high, reeking of desperation. "We Ramseys have always believed in giving back. When I was restructuring my firm’s veteran support initiative, I told Victoria that service is in our blood—"
"Is that right, Spencer?" General Kensington interrupted, setting his heavy crystal glass down on the table with a sharp *clink*.
The table fell silent.
The General leaned back, fixing Spencer with an icy, dissecting glare. "Because last month, when you pitched your hedge fund to my investment committee, you told us Griffin was an administrator in logistics who took a desk job because she couldn't cut it in the corporate world."
Spencer’s glass wavered. The champagne sloshed over the rim, spilling onto his tailored sleeve. "I... General, that was simply a misunderstanding, I meant—"
"You lied," the General said flatly, without raising his voice. "You diminished your sister’s sacrifice to make yourself look like the sole protector of your family’s stature. You told my daughter that your family practically funded Griffin’s entire unit out of pocket."
Margot jumped in, her voice shrill and trembling. "General Kensington, please, Spencer was only trying to protect Griffin’s privacy! You know how sensitive veterans can be about their... their little medals!"
The table went dead cold.
A senator sitting two seats away raised his eyebrows in utter disbelief. A woman from the local historical society covered her mouth in shock.
"Her *little medals*?" General Kensington repeated, his voice dangerously soft. He stood up slowly, leaning heavily on his cane, towering over my mother. "Mrs. Ramsey, that medal on your daughter’s chest cost the lives of brave young men. It represents the kind of courage you couldn't buy with every cent in your husband’s bank account. And to hear you speak of it like a piece of cheap costume jewelry makes me question what kind of household produced this boy."
Spencer went pale as a sheet. "Victoria..." he turned to his new bride, his voice cracking. "Victoria, tell your grandfather—"
May you like
Victoria stepped back, her veil trailing behind her, her expression unreadable and freezing. "I think you've said enough, Spencer."
***