The sound of my arm breaking was louder than the applause had been. Seconds earlier, I’d been standing beside General Robert Hayes after he briefly lost his balance near the stage. I caught his elbow instinctively, holding him steady before he could fall.

Six months later.

The morning sun shone brightly over the parade grounds at Fort Bragg. The cool autumn air carried the scent of pine trees and fresh rain.

I stood in front of a full formation of soldiers, dressed in my operational camouflage uniform. My left arm had fully healed, the black brace gone, replaced by a slight, pale scar near my wrist—a reminder of a battle I had fought and won.

General Hayes walked down the line, accompanied by the Post Commander.

He stopped directly in front of me, looking at my chest, where a new rank insignia was pinned.

“Major Vance,” General Hayes said, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. “Or should I say, Major Maya Sterling?”

“Major Sterling is fine, sir,” I smiled, having legally restored my maiden name three weeks after the final divorce decree was granted.

“Your promotion to Major was long overdue, Maya,” General Hayes said, shaking my right hand firmly. “The Pentagon has officially assigned you to lead the new Counter-Intelligence Fraud Task Force for Special Operations Command.”

“Thank you, General,” I said, standing tall. “I’m ready to get to work.”

“I know you are,” Hayes replied softly. “You’ve proven that no matter how hard someone tries to break you, you don't stay down.”

After the ceremony ended, I walked across the green lawn toward the visitor area.

Standing near the bleachers was Sarah Lin, wearing civilian clothes, holding two cold iced coffees.

“Look at you, Major,” Sarah cheered, handing me a cup. “Command suits you.”

“It feels good to wear the uniform without carrying a secret, Sarah,” I admitted, taking a sip of coffee.

“Speaking of secrets,” Sarah said, leaning in with a smile, “I checked the federal prison registry this morning. Margaret Vance accepted a plea deal for five years of probation and a massive civil fine that wiped out the rest of the Vance estate. She’s currently living in a small two-bedroom rental apartment in Greensboro.”

I looked out over the parade grounds, feeling no malice, no bitterness—only a clean, quiet peace.

“And Ethan?” I asked softly.

“He was transferred to a maximum-security facility in Terre Haute last week,” Sarah said. “He’ll be fifty-five when he gets out.”