They Mocked Me at the Class Reunion — Until the Helicopter Landed: “Madam General… We Need You.”

They Mocked Me at the Class Reunion — Until the Helicopter Landed: “Madam General… We Need You.”

I turned to go, and he caught my arm gently—enough to make me stop.

“You could have been someone, Rebecca.”

“I am someone,” I said. “Just not someone you’d recognize.”

The door swung open again. Chloe.

“Jason,” she called in that breezy tone she used when she wanted to be overheard. “They’re asking for the golden‑trio picture—come on, for old times’ sake.”

Her eyes flicked to me. Her smile widened.

“Oh, Becca. Didn’t know you were still here. Thought you might have ducked out early, like usual.”

Jason dropped his hand.

Chloe looped her arm through his like it had always belonged there. “Anyway,” she said, brushing an invisible speck off his jacket, “everyone’s dying to know what our class’s only DOJ appointee and its most successful real‑estate developer have been up to. I told them you two are still deciding who wins the power‑couple crown.”

She smiled at me over her shoulder and tugged him back inside.

I stayed a moment longer, letting the wind thread my fingers. Then I returned to the noise.

Melissa stood at the edge of a group near the bar, wine in hand, watching.

“That was painful,” she murmured when I joined her.

“Which part?”

“All of it.” She added, “You look better than them all, by the way.”

“I doubt they’d agree.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Truth doesn’t need a majority vote.”

Across the room, Chloe leaned close to Jason, whispering something that made him laugh. She caught me watching. She didn’t look away. She smiled.

“Didn’t she used to follow you around like a shadow?” Melissa asked.

“She learned to outshine me instead,” I said.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder. Mr. Walters—AP History—older, thinner, but the same sharp eyes.

“Miss Cole,” he said warmly. “I was hoping you’d be here. I heard about your military service.”

“Thank you, Mr. Walters.”

“You wrote a paper on asymmetric warfare for me,” he said. “I still remember it. Brilliant.”

That paper had been a late‑night act of defiance, written after a phone call with Jason left me in tears.

“I remember,” I said.

He leaned in, voice low. “Tell me—did you ever serve in Ghost Viper? I’ve heard things.”

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