Chapter 5: The Reckoning Begins

Following Lucy’s memories, I arrived at the Lee residence.

It was a sprawling estate on the edge of D.C.—white columns, manicured lawns, American flags snapping in the spring breeze. I could smell barbecue ribs drifting from the backyard, country music playing low from the speakers, and kids running wild on the grass, balloon swords in hand.

At this moment, the Lee house was bustling.

Cars lined the driveway—SUVs, sedans, the occasional government-issue black Escalade. The sound of music, the clink of glasses, the buzz of conversation—all signs of a family celebration.

Shane Carter, who inherited Linda Lee’s military power, was holding a first birthday party for the son of his second wife.

The cake was three tiers tall, red, white, and blue icing spelling out “Happy Birthday, Micah!” Balloons drifted above the tables, waitstaff in crisp uniforms carrying trays of sparkling cider. A bouncy house inflated in the side yard.

Guests streamed in for Shane, who now commanded three hundred thousand Lee family troops and served as a close advisor to the President.

People greeted him with forced smiles, handshakes that lingered a little too long. The room was thick with ambition—everyone jockeying for a piece of the Carter power.

The moment I appeared, Shane, who was greeting guests at the door, visibly changed expression.

His grip tightened on the doorknob. His face blanched, lips thinning to a grim line.

A flash of terror passed through his eyes, then deep anger.

He masked it quickly, but I saw his jaw clench. He glanced at the security detail—muscle in dark suits, earpieces buzzing.

He was Lucy’s father.

The knowledge made my skin crawl. His smile never reached his eyes.

Also the one who took Lucy’s heart blood.

My hand tightened around the knife. I could feel old rage rising in my chest.

Shane signaled the security guards beside him to approach me, intending to kill me again before anyone noticed.

He gestured subtly, but I caught it—the flick of a finger, the nod toward the side door. The guards moved in, silent and predatory.

I sneered and drew the knife from my back.

Its blade gleamed in the afternoon sun. For a moment, time seemed to slow—the guests oblivious, the guards poised to strike.

With one stroke, I slit the throat of the approaching guard.

I felt nothing—just a cold, steady calm, the kind you get right before a storm hits.

He fell without a sound, shock frozen on his face. Blood pooled on the marble entryway, soaking into the welcome mat.

Instantly, chaos erupted.

Screams, the shattering of glass, the shriek of a woman clutching her pearls. Some guests ran for the exits, others ducked behind the buffet table. The band stopped playing mid-song.

A look of disbelief flashed through Shane’s eyes.

He staggered back, eyes wild. He couldn’t fathom that little Lucy—me—could fight back, could kill without hesitation.

He couldn’t believe that the weak Lucy could suddenly become someone who could kill with a single stroke.

For a second, I almost pitied him. Then I remembered what he’d done.

He shouted angrily at me, "Ungrateful child, you don’t come home at night! Today is your little brother’s birthday, yet you dare show up with a weapon. Put it down right now!"

He raised his voice for the crowd’s benefit, playing the concerned father, the pillar of the community. I could see the calculation in his eyes.

All at once, the room’s focus shifted—the whispers started, rumors coiling like snakes. My bloodied hands, my defiant glare, my knife.

He saw he couldn’t kill me, so he tried to ruin my reputation, to drive me to my end another way.

Classic Shane—if he couldn’t control you, he’d destroy your image. Small-town gossip could be just as deadly as any weapon.

But reputation meant nothing to me.

I had no one left to impress, nothing left to lose.

I threw my knife, aiming straight for his forehead.

The blade spun, a streak of silver. Shane ducked at the last second, the knife grazing his cheek, blood welling instantly.

Shane dodged narrowly, his cheek sliced to the bone.

He clapped a hand to the wound, eyes blazing. He looked less like a father, more like a cornered animal.

He shouted in anger, "Ungrateful child, you dare try to kill your own father!"

He said it for the crowd, but his voice trembled with real fear. I saw the mask slip.

Why wouldn’t I dare?

I took a step forward, voice clear. "Your Carter family was on the decline. You joined the Army alone, saved many times by Linda Lee. But instead of repaying her, you schemed against her, forced yourself on her, made her have your child, and forced her to marry you. She helped you rise to power, brought your whole Carter family to live in the General’s mansion. But how did you treat her? You poisoned her, ruined her life, locked her away like she was nothing, and made sure she died alone."

Every word was a bullet, each accusation drawing gasps from the crowd. Some people covered their mouths in shock; others glared at Shane, outrage boiling over.

I learned all this from Lucy’s memories, and these things killed Lucy.

The truth was a weight lifted at last. I saw relief—and vindication—in the eyes of the old soldiers in the crowd.

The room went dead silent, then erupted like a busted fire hydrant. People shouted, some grabbed their phones, others just stared, wide-eyed.

So that’s why the great general married the unknown Shane Carter so suddenly; it turns out he used dirty tricks against her. He’s truly shameless to betray our general!

People whispered, “I always wondered why she married him. He never deserved her.”

"Didn’t Shane Carter say the general died leading a surprise attack, fell into a trap, and was shot to death by a thousand bullets? How did it become dying from imprisonment and humiliation?"

Old friends, former comrades, even family members demanded answers. It was no longer a private feud—it was a public reckoning.

"Shane Carter, today you need to give us an explanation! How exactly did the general die?"

The voices grew louder, angrier. I saw people pull out their phones, recording everything, ready to send the truth viral.

Most of those demanding answers were Lee family soldiers. Their ancestors fought alongside the Lee family heroes, defending the country together.

These were men and women who’d bled for their flag, for their general. They wouldn’t let her memory be tarnished without a fight.

They were brothers in arms, kin who bled together.

That kind of loyalty doesn’t die—it only smolders, waiting for the right moment to flare up.

Alongside the Lee soldiers were the watching townsfolk.

Neighbors, teachers, shop owners—all who’d grown up hearing stories of Linda Lee’s heroism, her sacrifices. This was their reckoning too.

Linda Lee fought for the country all her life, protecting America.

She led troops through hell, brought home sons and daughters who would’ve been lost. The crowd remembered.

In the hearts of officials and people alike, she was a true hero.

Some saluted, others wiped away tears. The room crackled with the electricity of truth finally breaking free.

But after peace came to the land, she was secretly executed.

The silence after that statement was deafening. People stared at Shane, horror and disbelief painted on their faces.

Facing the crowd’s outrage, Shane panicked.

He lost his practiced calm, stammered, looking from face to face for support—and finding none.

He hurried to explain: "Don’t listen to this ungrateful child’s lies... Linda and I loved each other. She helped me rise; how could I harm her?"

His voice was shaky, his arguments flimsy. But the crowd was no longer buying it. Their eyes were fixed on me—and on the blood still dripping from Shane’s cheek, red as the truth finally coming out.

But the truth was out now, and for the first time, I saw fear in Shane Carter’s eyes. The reckoning had only just begun.