“These are the verified audits of Fort Garrison’s logistics accounts over the last twenty-four months,” I said.

I opened the white folder, exposing the documents.

“They detail systemic career fraud, falsified transport manifests, and unauthorized budget allocations under Lieutenant Colonel Carter’s signature.”

A murmur rippled through the spectators in the pavilion.

Behind them, my father stood up halfway, his face reddening.

Claire leaned forward, her fingers gripping her yellow handbag so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“This is absurd,” Andrew muttered, his face turning a mottled shade of red.

“She is trying to sabotage my career out of spite because her own family doesn’t respect her.”

“I am not finished, General,” I said, turning a page.

I looked directly at Claire, then back to the General.

“There is also a certified laboratory report attached to the back of this file.”

“A lab report?” the General asked, his eyes narrowing under his starched cap.

“Yes, Sir. A DNA paternity test concerning Claire Carter’s six-year-old son, Toby.”

Claire let out a sharp gasp that cut through the heavy Texas air.

Andrew reached out to grab the folder, but I pulled it back, handing it directly to General Vance.

“The results prove a ninety-nine point nine percent probability,” I said quietly.

“The child is your grandson, General. Fathered by your late son, Captain Richard Vance, during his deployment three years before his passing.”

The silence on the parade deck became absolute.

The wind blew a gust of dry dust across our boots.

General Vance looked down at the paper, his fingers trembling slightly as he read the names on the laboratory seal.

Andrew’s chest heaved, his gaze darting from me to his wife, then to the General.

Our mother stood up completely now, her hand over her mouth.

Our father reached out to pull her back down, his face a mask of shock.