His Unwanted Wife, The Nation's Hero

The heavy brass handle of the Manhattan penthouse door felt cold against Cilla's palm.

She pushed the door open, stepping into the foyer.

Today was her wedding anniversary. She had spent the entire afternoon preparing, convincing herself that the recent distance between her and Jace was just a phase.

Before she could even take off her coat, the sound of bright, ringing laughter drifted from the living room.

It was a woman's laugh.

Cilla's stomach dropped. The muscles in her jaw tightened instantly.

She slipped off her coat, hanging it on the rack with slow, deliberate movements. She took a deep breath, forcing her heart rate to steady.

"Oh, Jace, it's absolutely stunning. The vintage cut is so unique," the woman's voice cooed.

It was Carolyn.

Cilla's blood turned to ice water in her veins. She walked briskly down the hallway, her low heels making no sound on the imported marble floor.

She stepped into the living room. Her eyes immediately locked onto Carolyn's neck.

Resting against Carolyn's collarbone was a silver pendant, shaped like a teardrop with a subtle, intricate engraving on the back.

Cilla's chest seized. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.

That was her mother's necklace. The only thing recovered from the explosion that took her parents' lives.

Jace stood next to the marble kitchen island, a relaxed smile on his face. He popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and poured it into two crystal flutes.

He didn't even look up to acknowledge Cilla's presence.

Cilla closed the distance between them in three long strides.

"Take it off," Cilla said. Her voice was flat, devoid of any warmth.

Carolyn gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in a perfectly practiced gesture of shock. "Oh! Cilla, you're home early. I'm so sorry, we were just..."

Jace finally turned around. His smile vanished, replaced by a deep frown.

"What is wrong with you?" Jace demanded, setting the champagne bottle down hard. "You walk in here and immediately start ruining the mood. Have some manners."

Cilla pointed a rigid finger at Carolyn's chest. "I said, take that necklace off right now."

Carolyn's eyes welled up with tears instantly. Her lower lip trembled as she looked up at Jace, shrinking her shoulders to appear smaller.

"Jace, I... I didn't know it was hers," Carolyn whispered, her voice cracking.

Jace stepped squarely in front of Carolyn, using his broad shoulders to block Cilla's view.

"Stop acting crazy, Cilla," Jace said, his tone dripping with condescension. "It was just sitting in a dusty box in the guest room. It's a cheap piece of junk. Carolyn liked it, so I gave it to her."

A harsh, bitter laugh scraped its way out of Cilla's throat.

"A cheap piece of junk?" Cilla repeated, her fingernails digging into her own palms until the skin nearly broke. "That is the recovered property of a fallen CIA operative. It was my mother's."

Jace blinked. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but his pride quickly swallowed it. "Don't pull that CIA card, Cilla. It was a tragic accident, not some movie plot. That was years ago. Don't be dramatic," Jace scoffed. He reached into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket and pulled out his checkbook.

He grabbed a pen from the counter and started scribbling.

"Here," Jace said, ripping the check free and holding it out to her. "Buy yourself a new one. Buy ten. Just stop embarrassing yourself in front of our guest."

Cilla stared at the piece of paper. The sheer disrespect made her vision blur at the edges.

She slapped her hand upward, striking Jace's wrist.

The checkbook flew out of his grip. The loose check fluttered through the air, landing on the floor like trash.

Carolyn let out a high-pitched shriek and scrambled to hide completely behind Jace's back.

In that split second of chaos, Cilla lunged forward.

Jace realized what she was doing. He reached out, his large hand aiming to clamp down on her wrist to stop her.

Instinctively, Cilla flinched away from his touch, her body reacting to the sudden aggression. She stumbled back a half-step, her shoulder dipping just enough so that his large hand grabbed nothing but empty air.

She reached around his torso and grabbed the silver chain resting on Carolyn's neck.

With one sharp, violent yank, Cilla pulled.

The metal clasp snapped with a sharp click.

Cilla closed her fist around the pendant, the cold metal biting into her skin.

Carolyn clutched her neck, letting out a dramatic sob. "She hurt me! Jace, she choked me!"

Jace's face turned a dark, furious red. "You are an unreasonable, psychotic woman!" he roared.

Cilla stood her ground. She looked at the man she had married.

The man she had quietly supported, the man whose company she had built from the shadows.

Every ounce of warmth she had ever felt for him evaporated, leaving nothing but a hollow, freezing void in her chest.

"Apologize to her," Jace ordered, pointing a finger at Cilla's face. "Right now."

Cilla didn't say a word. She turned on her heel and walked toward the front door.

Her steps were even, measured, and completely resolute.

"If you walk out that door, don't expect a single cent for your living expenses!" Jace yelled down the hallway.

Cilla paused with her hand on the doorknob.

She looked over her shoulder, her lips curling into a smile that held absolutely no joy.

She pulled the door open and slammed it shut behind her.

The heavy thud echoed in the hallway.

Cilla stepped into the private elevator and pressed the button for the lobby.

She opened her fist and looked at the silver teardrop resting on her palm.

Her chest rose and fell in a deep, shaky breath.

She was done playing the quiet, useless wife. It was time to bring her parents' ashes home.

The tires of Cilla's black SUV crunched against the gravel as she approached the heavily fortified gates of the secret military facility in Virginia.

She rolled down her window. The crisp morning air hit her face.

An armed sentry stepped out of the guardhouse, his hand resting casually on his rifle.

Cilla handed over her identification card. It wasn't her civilian driver's license.

It was a solid black card with a gold embedded chip.

The sentry slid it into his reader. The screen flashed green instantly.

The sentry's posture snapped from relaxed to rigid. Recognizing the black card's ultimate clearance level, he didn't offer a standard military salute, which might draw unwanted attention. Instead, he stepped back, his feet planting firmly as he assumed a stance of profound, silent respect.

"Clear to proceed, Ma'am," he barked.

Cilla gave a single nod, rolled up the window, and drove through the opening gates.

She navigated the winding road until she reached the underground bunker entrance.

She parked her vehicle in the designated high-clearance zone.

Stepping out, she walked toward the reinforced steel elevator and pressed her thumb against the biometric scanner.

The doors hissed open. The elevator descended deep into the earth, the pressure making her ears pop.

When the doors opened again, she stepped into the sterile, brightly lit archives level.

A military liaison officer in full dress uniform was already waiting for her.

"Ms. Henson," the liaison said, his voice echoing slightly in the concrete hallway. "We have been expecting you. It is an honor. The entire command expresses its deepest respects for your parents' sacrifice."

"Thank you, Major," Cilla said, her voice steady and low.

She followed him down the corridor.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

Jace's name flashed across the glass.

Cilla pressed the power button, shutting the device off completely. She shoved it back into her pocket, severing her connection to his world.

The liaison stopped in front of a massive vault door. He punched in a twelve-digit code and pressed his eye to a retinal scanner.

Heavy locking mechanisms clanked loudly before the door swung open.

In the center of the quiet room sat a polished wooden table.

Resting on the table was a black urn, meticulously draped with a folded American flag.

Cilla walked slowly toward the table. Her throat tightened, a painful lump forming right at the base of her neck.

She reached out, her fingertips brushing the coarse fabric of the stars and stripes.

The liaison stepped forward, holding a velvet box and a thick manila folder stamped with red 'TOP SECRET' letters.

"Their medals of valor, Ma'am. And the unredacted casualty report," he said softly.

Cilla opened the folder. Her eyes scanned the typed words, confirming the brutal, heroic details of her parents' final moments.

Her eyes burned. The edges of her vision blurred with unshed tears, but she blinked them away.

She swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears fall.

Two soldiers in ceremonial dress entered the room. Their movements were perfectly synchronized.

They approached the table, lifted the flag, and executed the ceremonial folding with sharp, precise snaps of the fabric.

They formed it into a tight triangle, the blue field of stars facing outward.

The lead soldier stepped in front of Cilla and presented the folded flag, holding it at chest level.

Cilla accepted the flag, holding it tightly against her own chest.

She stepped back, brought her right hand up, and delivered a flawless, rigid salute.

The soldiers returned the salute, turned, and marched out of the room.

"Do you require a military escort back to New York, Ma'am?" the liaison asked.

"No," Cilla replied, lowering her hand. "This is a private family matter now."

She carefully picked up the heavy black urn, cradling it in one arm while holding the flag with the other.

She turned and walked out of the vault.

The liaison watched her go. He knew the reputation of the Eagle Task Force's most lethal operator. She still moved like a predator.

Cilla rode the elevator back to the surface.

She placed the urn and the flag gently into the passenger seat of her SUV, securing the seatbelt around them.

She started the engine and drove out of the base, merging onto the highway.

At a red light, she turned her phone back on.

A text message from Jace immediately popped up.

You didn't show up to take Carolyn's mother to the clinic today. You are incredibly selfish.

Cilla stared at the words. A cold, humorless smile touched her lips.

She tapped the screen, setting his number to 'Do Not Disturb'.

The light turned green. Cilla pressed her foot down on the gas pedal.

The SUV surged forward, speeding toward Manhattan.

She was bringing her parents to the only property she actually owned. The penthouse.

Cilla stepped out of the private elevator, the heavy black urn resting securely against her chest.

The hallway leading to the penthouse was silent, the thick carpet absorbing the sound of her footsteps.

She walked up to the double mahogany doors and reached out to punch in the security code.

Her hand stopped mid-air.

The door wasn't fully closed. It was cracked open just an inch.

Through the narrow gap, the shrill, grating voice of her mother-in-law, Meryl, spilled into the hallway.

"I don't care what you have to do, Jace. That uneducated hillbilly is a stain on this family," Meryl snapped.

Cilla froze. Her fingers tightened around the smooth surface of the urn.

"She literally just leeches off your bank accounts," Sierra, Jace's younger sister, chimed in. "She doesn't even know how to dress for a charity gala."

Cilla stood perfectly still. Her knuckles turned stark white from how hard she was gripping the ceramic.

"You need to divorce her and marry Carolyn," Meryl continued, her voice rising in pitch. "Carolyn is a star pilot. She comes from a good family. She brings prestige to the Hudson name."

There was a brief silence from inside the apartment.

Jace didn't defend her. He didn't tell his mother to stop.

"A divorce means dealing with the prenup," Jace finally said, his voice low and calculating. "It means splitting assets."

"Then you get the lawyers to bury her in paperwork," Meryl said coldly. "You freeze her out. You make sure she walks away with absolutely nothing. She deserves to be back on the streets where you found her."

"Fine," Jace agreed, the word hitting Cilla like a physical blow to the stomach. "I'll have the legal team draft something up. I'll get her to sign it."

Standing in the hallway, Cilla felt her pulse slow down.

There was no anger left. No sadness. Just a thick, suffocating wave of pure disgust.

She looked down at the flag draped over the urn. Her parents had died for this country.

And she was standing here listening to parasites plot to steal her dignity.

Cilla took a steadying breath, her hand closing around the spare key in her pocket. The metal bit into her palm, a grounding anchor against the tidal wave of disgust threatening to pull her under. She unlocked the heavy mahogany door and pushed it open with a sudden, overwhelming force that made it fly inward with a violent crash, the brass handle slamming into the interior wall.

Meryl, Sierra, and Jace all jumped, their heads snapping toward the entryway.

Cilla walked into the living room. Her face was a mask of stone. Her eyes swept over the three of them, sharp and unforgiving.

Meryl's face paled for a second, a flash of guilt crossing her features before it morphed back into arrogant annoyance.

Sierra stood up from the velvet sofa, crossing her arms. "Do you always sneak around and eavesdrop like a creep?"

Jace's eyes dropped to the object in Cilla's arms. His brow furrowed in deep confusion.

"What the hell is that?" Jace demanded, pointing at the black container. "Why are you bringing that morbid thing into my house?"

"These are my parents' ashes," Cilla said. Her voice didn't shake. It was dead calm.

Meryl shrieked, taking a dramatic step backward and clutching the pearls at her throat.

"Oh my god!" Meryl gasped, her chest heaving. "Get that out of here! You're bringing dead bones into my son's home? You're ruining the energy of this place!"

Sierra pinched her nose, her face twisting in exaggerated disgust. "That is so unsanitary. Take it outside."

Jace's jaw clenched. The veins in his neck bulged.

"Take that garbage out of my apartment right now, Cilla," Jace ordered, his voice echoing in the large room.

Cilla pulled the urn tighter against her chest. She stared directly into Jace's eyes, refusing to blink.

"This is my home too," Cilla said, enunciating every single syllable. "And my parents have every right to be here."

Meryl let out a furious noise. She lunged forward, her hand raised high in the air.

She aimed a vicious slap right at Cilla's face.