Chapter 5 - Silver Eagles
The main auditorium was packed to capacity.
Three hundred officers, enlisted personnel, visiting dignitaries, and family members sat in rows of velvet seats beneath towering American flags. The murmur of the crowd died down instantly as the side doors opened and the official party marched onto the stage.
General Meredith Kane took her place at the podium, her presence commanding the entire room.
I stood at attention center-stage, my service dress uniform pressed to razor-sharp perfection, the brass buttons gleaming under the stage lights. My hands were steady. My posture was iron.
General Kane read the official promotion orders, her strong voice carrying effortlessly through the sound system.
“...and having demonstrated exceptional leadership, unyielding integrity, and tactical brilliance in the service of the United States of America, Lieutenant Colonel Rebecca Hartwell is hereby promoted to the rank of Colonel.”
Applause thundered through the auditorium.
General Kane stepped down from the podium, carrying a small velvet box containing my new rank insignia—the silver eagles of a full colonel. She walked up to me, stopping just inches away.
“Well earned, Colonel,” she whispered, her eyes shining with respect.
“Thank you, General,” I replied quietly.
She reached into the box, pulled out the heavy silver eagles, and pinned the first one onto my left collar, while an assisting officer pinned the right.
As the silver eagle settled securely onto my uniform, I felt a sudden, sharp vibration in my coat pocket.
It was my phone.
I didn't move a muscle, keeping my eyes locked straight ahead on the horizon of the auditorium.
General Kane stepped back, saluted sharply, and said, “Congratulations, Colonel Hartwell. Take your post.”
“Ma’am, thank you,” I returned the salute with crisp, flawless precision.
As I turned to face the audience, stepping up to the microphone to deliver my remarks, my phone buzzed a second time.
Then a third time.
A text message preview flashed briefly across the lock screen visible through the mesh of my inner pocket lining. It wasn't from Ethan. It wasn't from Mom.
It was an unknown local number, accompanied by a frantic voice note from my mother, recorded less than two minutes ago.
I tapped the screen discreetly beneath the podium, keeping my speech notes open with my left hand while my thumb pressed play on the audio file at the lowest volume, holding the speaker up against my ribs.
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My mother’s voice trembled through the tiny speaker, laced with absolute, shattering panic:
“Rebecca... please... you have to call me back immediately. Your father... after he was kicked off the base, he didn't come home. He drove straight to the old warehouse district, and... and he just called me from Ethan’s phone. He said... he said if you don't call him back within ten minutes and issue a public statement apologizing for humiliating him on television, he’s going to release documents about your brother’s past that will destroy Ethan’s entire life forever...”
