But as I looked at the passing cars, a thought began to take root in my mind.

I had twenty million dollars.

I had a career, a secure rank, and the backing of people like General Vale.

I had been able to fight back because I had the resources to do so.

But there were other women in the military.

Young specialists and privates whose husbands walked out on them, taking the cars, the bank accounts, and leaving them with infants in drafty base housing.

They didn’t have Naomi Pierce.

They didn’t have a trust fund to pay for private investigators and top-tier attorneys.

“Naomi,” I said, turning to her.

“Yes, Tessa?”

“Once the divorce is finalized and the trust is fully restored, I want to make a transfer.”

Naomi pulled out a small notepad from her coat pocket. “How much, and where?”

“Five million dollars,” I said. “I want to set up a foundation. Something to provide immediate legal and financial aid to military families facing abandonment.”

Naomi looked up from her notepad, her eyes softening.

“We can set that up easily,” she said. “We’ll name it after your mother.”