Chapter 2: Orders from Above

I spent five years stationed at the northern border, serving my country. By rights, I should have already retired, gotten married, started a family by now.

It was the kind of service that turns a man’s hair gray early. Every Memorial Day, I’d find myself the only one not waving a flag at the town parade—because I’d seen what that flag cost. The idea of retiring, settling down, maybe grilling in a backyard with kids running around, had always seemed so far off. But having grown up with him, I know exactly what kind of man the President is.

Lately, the city council’s been whispering, saying the country belongs to the Jenkins family.

The Jenkinses ran their lumber mill three towns over. Around here, rumors stick like burrs, and people love nothing more than to talk about who’s really pulling the strings.

He resents that.

So, the medal he pinned on my chest when I shipped out, the trust he gave me—now he wants it all back.

He even used my injury as an excuse to strip me of my command and set me up with a marriage.

"The daughter of Tom the carpenter from Maple Heights, known for her guts. Colonel West is loyal and brave, and has served with distinction defending the border. I hereby arrange this marriage, to honor his service!"

He sat there behind his giant mahogany desk, eyes full of mockery.

The air in that room felt heavy—like the old portraits were watching, judging every move. This arranged marriage was nothing but a humiliation for me—and would ruin a young girl’s life.

Dragging my half-crippled body, I knelt and pleaded again and again: "Mr. President, the doctor says I don’t have long to live, please let me go."

My voice cracked. I hated the way it sounded—weak, nothing like the man I used to be. It was degrading—me, a decorated officer, reduced to begging in front of men I used to command. But he didn’t flinch. "Marcus West, the government’s been more than generous with you. Time to take the deal."

Yes, he and I are nothing more than leader and subordinate now.

If the boss wants you gone, you don’t get a say.

Even in America, there are debts and favors you can’t repay, old boys’ networks you can’t escape. Sometimes you find out too late how little your past service is worth.