Chapter 3 - The Threat of the Uniform
“Federal offense?” My father’s voice cracked, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. He looked from Alexander to me, his corporate composure completely shattered. “Emily, you cannot be serious. You’re going to call the military police on your own mother the night before your brother’s wedding? Have you completely lost your mind?”
“I didn't destroy government property, Dad,” I said, keeping my voice level, though my heart was hammering against my ribs. “Mom did.”
“It was just a stupid costume!” my mother cried out, her facade of control completely crumbling into sheer, unadulterated panic. She rushed toward the stairs, stopping a few feet short of where Alexander stood blocking the path. “It makes her look ridiculous! It’s ugly! Every time she walks into a room wearing that thing, people look at her like she’s a monster instead of a normal woman! I was just... I was trying to help her move on!”
“By slicing up a Major’s dress uniform with kitchen shears?” Alexander asked, his tone laced with a dangerous, quiet fury. He stepped up another stair, towering over my mother. “You think because it’s a woman wearing the uniform, it holds less value? You think her rank is a game?”
“I didn't know she was a Major!” my mother sobbed defensively, tears finally springing to her eyes—not of remorse, but of wounded pride and cornered desperation. “She never tells us anything! She lives in some distant base, saving strangers while her own brother is building a real life here! Lucas is getting married tomorrow to a wonderful girl from one of the finest families in Virginia! We couldn't have Emily walking around looking like a—like a drill sergeant!”
“And where is Lucas?” Alexander asked, his eyes scanning the foyer.
As if summoned by his name, the front door—which had been left slightly ajar by the aides—pushed open further. Lucas walked in, carrying a garment bag over his shoulder, laughing as he talked on his phone.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll pick up the extra champagne bottles in the morning—wait, what is going on here?”
Lucas stopped dead in the entryway. His phone slipped slightly in his hand. He looked at my mother, who was practically hyperventilating near the stairs. He looked at my father, who looked like he was about to have a stroke. And then, finally, he looked at Alexander.
“Dad? Mom? Who is this?” Lucas asked, frowning. He walked further in, tossing his car keys onto the entry table. “And why is there an army general standing in our foyer?”
“Lucas,” my father croaked, his voice strained. “Your... your sister. She’s... she’s married to him.”
Lucas stared at me. Then he looked at Alexander. A slow, incredulous smile spread across his face. “Emily? Married to a general? Are you kidding me right now? Is this some kind of weird bachelorette prank? Because the rehearsal dinner is in two hours, and I really don't have time for Emily’s little theatrical outbursts.”
“It’s not a prank, Lucas,” I said, walking down the remaining steps until I stood beside Alexander. “And I’m not playing.”
“Oh, cut the crap, Em,” Lucas scoffed, stepping forward with the easy arrogance of the golden child who had never been told no in his life. “You always have to make everything about you. Every holiday, every birthday, you show up in your little boots and act like you’re saving the world just because you patch up soldiers. Now you hire some actor to play a three-star general just to ruin my wedding weekend?”
The air in the foyer went completely dead.
Even my mother gasped, whispering, “Lucas, shut up—”
“No, Mom, I’m sick of it!” Lucas snapped, turning to Alexander with a condescending smirk. “Look, whoever you are, nice costume. The stars look real, I’ll give you that. But you picked the wrong family to scam. My father knows people in state politics, and—ow! What the hell—”
Before Lucas could finish his sentence, Alexander’s hand shot out with blinding speed. He didn't strike my brother; instead, he caught Lucas by the lapel of his designer jacket, lifting him slightly off his heels with casual, terrifying strength.
The three-star general looked down into my brother’s terrified eyes.
“My name is Lieutenant General Alexander Hale,” Alexander said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet every person in the house heard every single word. “I command over eighty thousand soldiers. Your sister has spent the last four years operating on dying men and women in combat zones while you sat in your father’s office trading stocks. If you ever speak to her—or about her—with that tone of disrespect again, I will ensure that every single corporate contract, investor, and partner your father relies on vanishes before the sun comes up tomorrow.”
Lucas’s face turned the color of chalk. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak.
Alexander released him with a sharp shove that sent Lucas stumbling back against the wall, gasping for air.
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“Now,” Alexander said, turning his gaze back to my parents. “Where is my wife’s luggage?”
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