As I turned to leave, my eyes locked with someone a few feet away. Sophia. The bride. She wasn’t looking at the dress, or the cake, or her new husband.

She was looking at me — not with the pity my father had weaponized, or the disgust Aunt Linda carried, but with something sharp and calculating, reading my posture, my controlled breathing, the way I’d already mapped the exits.

I knew she was former JAG — a military lawyer. I just hadn’t known how high her clearance had been.

Sophia looked at the stained towel in my hand, then at the sneer on Vance’s face, then back at me, her expression hardening into absolute clarity. She didn’t speak.

But as she held my gaze, she mouthed one word that froze me where I stood: General.

Chapter 3 — The Trap

The DJ announced that the speeches were about to begin, and the guests started migrating toward their tables.