General Kingston didn’t even look back at them. He reached into his coat and pulled out a thick, waterproof envelope stamped with red ‘TOP SECRET’ markings, handing it directly to me.
“The intelligence you recovered in your own unit’s firewall prevented the breach,” he said, his voice lowering so only I could hear. “Because of your actions, not a single member of your team was lost.”
Then, the General nodded to the military police who had been waiting at the perimeter. They surged forward, surrounding the pavilion as the media frenzy reached a deafening roar.
Frank tried to argue, his face turning a shade of purple, but an agent shoved him toward the transport van. Diane was still shrieking, her mascara running down her cheeks, as she blamed me for their downfall, calling me a traitor to their family.
I never uttered a single word to her. She was not worth my breath.
I pulled my children closer, shielding their eyes from the sight of their grandparents being handcuffed and led away. Monica sat motionless on the folding chair, her hands shaking as a federal agent read her her rights.
The Honor Guard suddenly descended upon the casket, their movements sharp and efficient. They ripped the American flag from the wooden box without a shred of ceremony and marched away, leaving the casket looking small, cheap, and entirely unremarkable in the pouring rain.
General Kingston stepped closer to create a wall between us and the chaos. “You are the only hero standing in this cemetery today, Major,” he said, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of genuine respect in his cold eyes.
CHAPTER 3: THE END OF THE LIE
The aftermath of the Arlington disaster was immediate and absolute. Federal agents swarmed the grounds, and the reporters—who had come for a tear-jerking story about a hero’s death—found themselves documenting a far grimmer tale of treason and corporate greed.
Frank and Diane were shoved into the back of government SUVs, their screams of denial echoing against the headstones. They had tried to paint me as the villain for years, but in the end, their own corruption had brought their world crashing down.
Monica remained glued to the seat, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated fear as an agent stood over her with a pair of silver handcuffs. All the expensive jewelry and the designer clothes couldn’t save her from the reality of what she had helped hide.
I didn’t watch as they dragged her away. I didn’t watch as they carted off the coffin that held the man who had tried to sell my life for a few million dollars.
