She had spent years trying to teach me the difference between defending myself and becoming cruel.
I looked back at the cameras.
“The evidence is part of the court record. The appropriate authorities can determine whether further action is warranted.”
Another reporter raised her hand.
“Commander, what was it like hearing your father call you a fraud?”
That question stopped me.
Not because I didn’t know the answer.
Because I knew it too well.
I looked directly into the camera.
“It was painful.”
The reporter lowered her microphone slightly.
I continued.
“But the most painful part wasn’t being called a fraud.”
I swallowed.
“It was knowing that the person accusing me had never needed proof of my dishonesty. He only needed me to refuse him something he wanted.”
Nobody interrupted.
I stepped back.
“That’s all I have to say.”
Shaw moved beside me and guided us through the crowd.
We didn’t stop again.
Outside, the afternoon sky was bright.
The courthouse steps were warm beneath my shoes.
I hadn’t realized how cold I’d been until I reached the sunlight.
Shaw stopped beside the parking area.
“You handled yourself well.”
I let out a long breath.
“I wanted to hit him.”
Shaw gave a quiet laugh.
“I gathered that.”
“Not in court.”
“Good distinction.”
I smiled for the first time that day.
Then the smile faded.
“Daniel.”
He looked at me.
“Do you think he believed me at the end?”
Shaw considered the question.
