“Sir, step back,” the bailiff said, his voice calm but absolute.

“She’s ruining my life!” Grant yelled, his face distorted with rage.

“She’s using her rank! She’s using her money!”

“Mr. Holloway, you need to leave the courtroom immediately,” the bailiff said, taking a step toward him.

Grant’s lawyer was already packing his briefcase with trembling hands.

“Come on, Grant,” the lawyer whispered, grabbing Grant’s shoulder. “We have to go. You’re making it worse.”

Grant glared at me over the bailiff’s shoulder.

“You think you’re safe?” he spat, his voice cracking.

“You think your uniform makes you untouchable?”

General Vale stood up from the spectator bench.

He did not say a word.

He simply stood there, six feet of decorated military authority, staring directly at Grant.

The sheer presence of the general seemed to deflate Grant’s remaining bravado.

He let out a low sneer, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the side exit, his lawyer scurrying behind him.

The heavy door clicked shut, and the courtroom fell quiet once more.

I let out a long, slow breath, my shoulders dropping.