Jaxson
My father is waiting in his office, the gala still playing out downstairs. I’ve decided not to return to the party, holding my hands in my lap as I take a seat at his desk. Tears are sitting stale on my face, cold on my neck, and they don’t show signs of stopping. My father seems perplexed at the sight of me weeping. I’ve never done it before in his company.
“Son, what is it?” he asks, leaning forward over his desk, his head c****d. “I have a lot of people that need my attention tonight, this isn’t a good time to be upset, Jaxson. We have to keep appearances and even Aurora needs to participate. Did you find—”
“She’s dead,” I say meekly.
Even if the words aren’t true, they break me like they are.
His eyes widen and he sits up straighter. “Why—I don’t—What did you just say?”
