Chapter 7 - DAWN OVER THE HARBOR
The morning sun rose over the Charleston harbor in a blaze of brilliant gold and violet, burning off the residual humidity of the storm and casting long, sharp shadows across the historic estate.
Inside my temporary guest suite in the estate's carriage house, the room was quiet, save for the rhythmic humming of the air conditioning unit.
I stood before the full-length mirror, my reflection framed by the morning light.
I was fully dressed in my service dress white uniform. The wool jacket fit with absolute, immaculate precision, tailored to perfection. The rows of ribbons and combat decorations gleamed brightly against the crisp white fabric. Across my shoulders, the four heavy silver stars caught the sunlight, radiating a quiet, undeniable authority.
A knock sounded at the heavy oak door.
“Enter,” I called out.
The door swung open, and Master Chief Ramon Hayes stepped inside, dressed in his own immaculate dress blues, ribbons pinned straight, cover tucked neatly under his arm.
“Morning, Admiral,” Ramon said, his eyes scanning my uniform with critical, approving professional appreciation. “Everything is locked down. The SEAL detail has secured all access points. The local police chief checked in and confirmed he’s deferring all traffic control to our perimeter team.”
“Good,” I replied, adjusting my collar slightly. “And my parents?”
Ramon’s mouth twitched into a dry, sarcastic grin. “According to the estate manager, your father has been locked in his study since 5:00 a.m. drinking scotch and refusing to speak to anyone. Your mother is currently having a nervous breakdown in the bridal suite while trying to convince Melanie not to cancel the ceremony.”
I let out a slow, measured breath, smoothing down the front of my jacket. “Cancel? After months of planning and half a million dollars in catering? Melanie loves the spotlight too much to ever walk away from a wedding dress.”
“True,” Ramon chuckled. “Though IEDs in the Hindu Kush were less volatile than the vibe in the main house right now.”
“How are the generals?”
“General Vance, Admiral Vance, and General Holloway are already on site,” Ramon reported, his tone turning crisp and official. “They’ve taken front-row seats reserved specifically for the Department of Defense delegation. And word has leaked to the local press corps; there are three news vans parked outside the main gates hoping to catch a glimpse of the four-star admiral attending her family’s society wedding.”
May you like
A cold, satisfied smile touched my lips.
“Let’s go, Master Chief,” I said, picking up my white cover and placing it squarely on my head. “It’s time to get married.”
