Chapter 4

"We're leaving," Sarah said, her voice devoid of emotion. She helped David gather the broken pieces of his model airplane, her heart aching for him.

Mark scoffed. "Running away? Good. Don't come back."

Brenda sobbed delicately in the background.

Sarah didn't spare them another glance.

Outside, the air felt cleaner.

David was quiet, his shoulders slumped. The small burn on his hand, the destroyed model, the venomous words – it was too much.

"Mom," he whispered, his voice thick, "he really meant it, didn't he? About the scholarship. About... everything."

"Yes, honey, he did."

She remembered the first time. The shock, the disbelief, her desperate attempts to reason with Mark, to appeal to his conscience. It had been useless. He had no conscience.

She remembered David sinking into depression, the light in his eyes extinguished. His final, desperate act.

Her own subsequent death, a tragic accident born of a broken spirit, a life consumed by grief and injustice. The local paper had barely mentioned it, a footnote to Mark' s carefully constructed narrative of a troubled, unstable ex-wife.

No. Not again.

The memories were a torment, but also a weapon. She knew their playbook. She knew the depths of their cruelty.

"This isn't over, David," she said, her voice fierce. "Not by a long shot."

Back in their small, off-base apartment, Sarah pulled out a folder.

Her marriage certificate. David's birth certificate. And the original scholarship award letter, addressed to David Miller, detailing the ROTC scholarship. She' d made sure to grab it from the mailbox before Mark could this morning, a small, crucial victory.

"What are you doing, Mom?"

"We're going to see General Thompson. The Base Commander."

David looked skeptical. "Will he even listen to us? Dad... Sergeant Jenkins... he' s well-liked, isn't he?"

"He's also a liar and a thief," Sarah said grimly. "General Thompson has a reputation for being fair. We have to try."

At the base headquarters, a stern-faced Master Sergeant, an aide to the General, looked them up and down.

"General Thompson is a very busy man," the aide said, his tone dismissive. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but this is urgent. It concerns Sergeant Mark Jenkins and the theft of my son's ROTC scholarship."

The aide' s eyes flickered. "Ah, Sergeant Jenkins. Fine NCO. And you are?"

"Sarah Miller. His wife. This is our son, David."

The aide' s expression barely changed, but Sarah saw the subtle shift. He' d heard the gossip. The "unstable ex-wife" narrative.

"I'm afraid the General can't see you without an appointment. Perhaps you could speak to the Chaplain, or Family Services..."

"No," Sarah said, her voice ringing with sudden, desperate passion. "We need to see General Thompson. My husband is committing fraud. He is emotionally abusing his son. He has diverted a legally awarded scholarship to the son of the woman he is having an affair with. I have proof."

She held up the folder.

"He has left his son neglected, while he pampers this other woman and her child. Look at my son, Master Sergeant. Look at the burn on his hand, inflicted by this other boy, a burn my husband dismissed."

She pushed David gently forward. The small, red mark was stark against his pale skin.

The aide hesitated. The raw pain in Sarah' s voice, the sight of the quiet, obviously distressed boy, and the official-looking documents in her hand gave him pause.

"Wait here," he said, his tone a fraction less dismissive.

He disappeared into an inner office.

Minutes stretched into an eternity.

Finally, the aide returned. "General Thompson will see you. Briefly."

General Thompson was a man in his late fifties, his uniform immaculate, his eyes sharp and assessing. He listened without interruption as Sarah laid out her story, her voice shaking at times but her resolve firm.

She presented the documents: the marriage certificate, David' s birth certificate, the scholarship letter in David' s name. She recounted Mark' s affair with Brenda Lewis, his redirection of the scholarship funds, his attempts to silence her and David, Kevin' s bullying, and Mark' s blatant favoritism.

She spoke of David's hard work, his dreams, and the devastation of his father's betrayal.

General Thompson studied the documents, then looked at David, his expression unreadable.

"Sergeant Jenkins has a commendable service record," he said, his voice even. "And Mrs. Lewis is, as you know, the widow of a fallen soldier. These are serious allegations, Mrs. Miller."

"They are true allegations, General," Sarah said, meeting his gaze. "I am not asking for favors. I am asking for justice. I want a divorce from Sergeant Jenkins. And I want his wages garnished to pay for David's rightful college education, the one he earned."

The General was silent for a long moment.

"There will be a formal investigation," he finally said. "The Inspector General's office will handle it. Or JAG. We will get to the bottom of this."

He looked at Sarah. "In the meantime, I will ensure you receive all due financial support from Sergeant Jenkins, as his legal dependent. And an advance to help you and your son."

A tiny spark of hope ignited in Sarah' s chest.

It wasn't everything. But it was a start.