MY BROTHER SPENT SIX YEARS TELLING EVERYONE I HAD WASHED OUT OF THE NAVY, SO I STOOD SILENTLY IN THE BACK OF HIS SEAL CEREMONY—UNTIL THE MAJOR GENERAL SAW ME, FORGOT HIS MICROPHONE WAS ON, AND SAID, “OH WOW, YOU ACTUALLY CAME?” WHAT DID HE KNOW ABOUT ME? / Chapter 8 / 20

Chapter 8 - The General's OfficeAt 0800 sharp the next morning, I stood outside the heavy oak double doors of Major General Harrison’s command office on the main administrative deck of the Coronado base.

A young marine corporal stationed at the desk nodded respectfully. “Go right in, Agent Mercer. The General has been expecting you.”

I adjusted the collar of my civilian blazer, pushed the heavy door open, and stepped inside.

The office was vast, smelling of aged leather, pipe tobacco, and old salt air. Massive nautical maps and historical photographs of naval amphibious campaigns lined the wood-paneled walls. Major General Harrison stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the sparkling expanse of San Diego Bay where several gray destroyers sat anchored in formation.

He turned around slowly as the door clicked shut behind me.

“At ease, Chloe,” the General said, gesturing toward a leather armchair across from his massive mahogany desk.

I took a seat, keeping my posture straight. “You wanted to see me, General?”

Harrison walked over, leaning casually against the edge of his desk. He looked at me with a mixture of professional respect and grandfatherly curiosity.

“The Secretary ofoton called me at 0500 this morning,” Harrison said, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “He read the preliminary forensic audit on the Veterans Heritage Foundation. He said it was the cleanest, most devastating financial takedown he’s seen in twenty years of service.”

“It wasn't complicated, General,” I said. “Greed leaves a very predictable paper trail.”

“Indeed it does,” Harrison murmured. He walked around the desk, opened a bottom drawer, and pulled out a small, flat black velvet box. He slid it across the polished wood toward me.

I looked down at the box, hesitating for a moment before flipping open the lid.

Inside rested a distinguished service medal—the Legion of Merit—alongside an active-duty intelligence gold badge bearing a clearance level that few officers in the Pentagon ever attained.

“Your official medical discharge five years ago was always a ghost-protocol, Chloe,” Harrison said quietly, his tone turning serious. “We needed an elite forensic auditor embedded deep inside the civilian defense contractor network to track black-budget leaks. Your brother’s corruption just happened to intersect with a much larger, multi-state syndicate we’ve been trying to crack for three years.”

I looked up at him, my breath catching slightly. “So Tyler’s little foundation...”

“Was just a front for a much larger ring of defense contractors skimming classified procurement funds,” Harrison finished. “And because you had the courage to follow the trail all the way to his doorstep, you blew the whole thing wide open.”