My father mocked my burn scars—until a Navy SEAL stood up, stared at them, and whispered, I’ve seen those before.

After my father’s words, I didn’t retreat.

I walked away and found a quiet corner overlooking the dance floor.

The anger wasn’t hot.

It was cold.

Clarifying.

For my entire life, he had defined my worth.

I was done playing by his rules.

That’s when I saw him.

Captain James Walker, a distant cousin of my new husband.

But I recognized him from a joint forces briefing in a secure, windowless room three years earlier.

Here, he hadn’t recognized me.

Yet.

I understood then.

This would not be emotional.

It would be procedural.

I went to the DJ and made a simple request.

Then I found Evan.

“I need you to make sure Dad is standing right next to the head table during the toasts,” I said.

He nodded.

No questions.

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