Chapter 4 - THE TYRANT EXPOSED"Do you know who this is, Declan?" the admiral asked softly, standing back up to his full height, towering over my father.
My father swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. "She’s... she’s my daughter, Liora. She had an accident—"
"An accident?" The admiral’s voice roared through the private dining room, shattering the polite bourgeois atmosphere into dust. "Lieutenant Liora Varrick took a direct RPG hit while shielding three enlisted sailors during an ambush in the Bab-el-Mandeb strait! She stayed at her tactical console for four hours directing rescue operations while her own arm was nearly severed, saving twenty-two lives and preventing a multi-million-dollar classified cargo loss!"
My mother stared at me in sheer horror, as if she were seeing a monster for the first time. She had never asked how I got the scars. She had only assumed I was reckless, rebellious, and a disappointment.
"You told me," Admiral Vance continued, stepping right into my father’s personal space until Declan was forced to press his spine against the high back of his leather chair, "that you were bringing me here to discuss the Department of Defense logistics contract for Varrick Maritime. You told me you were a proud American patriot who supported our armed forces."
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"Admiral, I—I am!" my father stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. "I didn't know—she never talks about—"
"She didn't talk about it because you made her feel like a criminal in her own home!" Admiral Vance shouted, pointing a thick finger at my father's chest. "You told her to hide her scars? You told her she was embarrassing you? You piece of garbage. A hero sits at your table, bleeding her soul out trying to earn your love, and you treat her like a stray dog you found in an alley!"
