My mother’s red fingernail tapped the ribbons on my chest like she was testing cheap glass. “Look at her,” she said, laughing hard enough for the pearls at her throat to tremble. “My daughter actually believes she’s a lieutenant colonel in the United States Army.”

That evening, a quiet reception was held at the historic Hay-Adams Hotel overlooking the White House gardens.

I stood on the outdoor balcony, holding a glass of sparkling water, watching the city lights flicker across the National Mall. The heavy gold Medal of Honor rested comfortably against my chest, catching the moonlight.

My mother walked out onto the balcony, holding a warm coat over her arm.

"It gets chilly out here, Evelyn," she said softly, placing the coat over my shoulders.

"Thanks, Mom," I said, smiling at her gesture.

She stood beside me at the railing, looking out at the illuminated Washington Monument in the distance.

"I received a letter from Preston yesterday," she mentioned quietly.

I turned my head slightly. "How is he doing?"

"He's working in the prison library," she said, her voice calm and accepting. "He said he's finally sleeping well. He asked me to tell you... that he watched the ceremony on the prison television today. He cried, Evelyn. He told me he's sorry for everything."

I took a deep breath, letting the night air fill my lungs. The anger I had carried toward my brother for so many years had completely burned away, leaving behind only hope for his eventual redemption.

"Tell him I forgive him," I said quietly. "When he gets out, there will be a clean job waiting for him at the logistics warehouse in Boston. A real job. Starting at the bottom."