Chapter 4 - Breach of Protocol
Gregory swung the front door open, an irritated, arrogant smirk plastered across his face. He had assumed it was some lost delivery driver or a minor neighborhood complaint.
"Look, pal, you're blocking the entire driveway, you need to—"
Gregory stopped dead.
Standing on the porch was not a delivery driver. It was a full honor guard detail consisting of four crisp, uniformed military police officers in dress blues, their polished silver badges gleaming in the winter light. And standing right at the front, flanked by two armed guards, was Major General Elizabeth Vance.
Her uniform was immaculate, her silver stars catching the porch light. Her face was a mask of cold, terrifying stone.
"Good morning," Elizabeth’s voice cut through the icy air like a razor, carrying clearly into the foyer and straight out to the garage. "I am Major General Vance. I am looking for the owner of this residence."
My father pushed his way past Gregory, his face flushed with a mixture of awe and sudden, nervous panic. He had seen photos of Elizabeth in Tristan’s military albums, but he had never met her in person.
"General! Welcome, welcome!" My father stammered, frantically wiping his hands on his slacks. "I'm Robert, Charlotte's father. We didn't expect—well, we weren't told you were visiting today! Please, come in out of the cold. Gregory has just set up his corporate office in the master suite, but we can clear a space in the dining room—"
Elizabeth did not move an inch. She didn't extend her hand. Her dark, piercing eyes swept past my father, taking in the expensive decorations, the pine candles, and the general air of smug celebration.
Then her gaze locked onto the interior garage door where I was standing, watching through the glass.
"Stand aside, Mr. Miller," Elizabeth commanded, her voice dropping an octave into pure ice.
My father blinked, stunned. "I... beg your pardon?"
"I asked you to stand aside," Elizabeth repeated, taking a slow, measured step across the threshold. The four MPs filed in behind her, their heavy boots thudding rhythmically against the hardwood floor.
Priscilla hurried out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her smile faltering. "General Vance? Is there some kind of mistake? Tristan passed away three weeks ago, we're grieving, and the memorial service was—"
May you like
"I am well aware of when my brother passed, Mrs. Sterling," Elizabeth interrupted, her voice snapping like a whip. She didn't even look at Priscilla. She walked straight past my entire family, ignoring them as if they were nothing more than dust on a carpet.
She walked up to the garage door, reached out, and pulled it open.
