I couldn’t speak. I just turned the phone toward her.
She read the headline, and her face transformed from concern to cold fury. “That woman is a demon wearing human skin.”
“Margaret—”
“Don’t you dare defend her. Not after this.” She snatched the phone from my hands and scrolled through the article. “This is character assassination. This is—” She stopped reading. Her eyes widened. “Claire, they’re quoting a ‘family source’ who claims you were ‘hostile and threatening’ toward Eleanor during visits.”
“I was never hostile. I visited twice a month. I brought her flowers. I read her the newspaper because her eyesight is failing—”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Margaret’s voice was steel wrapped in silk. “But this isn’t about what happened. It’s about what they can make people believe happened.”
I stared at the wall, my mind racing. The article had gone live at 6:00 AM. In four hours, I was scheduled to meet with my commanding officer to discuss the status of my command assignment. Four hours before I had to walk into the Pentagon and explain to my superiors why a decorated military officer was being investigated for elder abuse.
