“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

His face turned red with contained fury. He looked at Mark with a murderous glare. The calm leadership aura from before had vanished, replaced by the terrifying aura of a man witnessing an injustice before his very eyes. Mr. Harrison approached Mark. Now the distance between them was minimal. Mark backed away step by step until his back hit the wall. He was cornered with no escape. Mr. Harrison pointed at Mark’s face just inches from his nose. His voice was no longer low, but boomed through the room, making the window panes tremble. Mr. Evans, is what your wife says true? You held a promotion party on your mother-in-law’s grave on the same day your wife lost her mother.