My mother-in-law set my wedding dress on fire right in front of me, just before the ceremony, laughing and saying: ‘You will never be part of this family!’ She mocked my Bronze Star, calling it a cheap medal. I calmly said: ‘You have no idea what you just did,’ and she panicked when I...

Richard Wilson stopped dead in his tracks. "What did you say?"

General Vance pulled a small, slim leather notebook from his inside jacket pocket, flipping it open with one hand.

"Ten minutes ago, while your wife was busy broadcasting her treasonous contempt for the United States military to forty thousand people on the internet, I received a phone call from the Secretary of the Navy," Vance said, his voice icy and clinical. "It seems the Senate Armed Services Committee has decided to pull Wilson Maritime Logistics from the bidding roster for the Atlantic Fleet supply contract."

A collective murmur went through the room. Several of Richard Wilson’s board members who were standing near the grand piano immediately pulled out their phones, frantically typing messages to their brokers.

"Marcus, you can't do that!" Richard stammered, panic finally cracking through his corporate veneer. "That contract is ninety million dollars! The acquisition process has been underway for fourteen months! We’ve already committed forty million in capital expenditures to the Norfolk shipyards!"

"Then I suggest you find some civilian yachts to build in Norfolk, Richard," Vance replied smoothly. "The Department of Defense does not award logistics contracts to companies whose majority shareholders view American soldiers as 'peasants who roll around in the mud.' It’s bad for morale. And frankly, it’s bad for national security."

Jason pushed his way past his father, his face purple with outrage, pointing an accusing finger directly at my face.

"You did this!" he screamed at me, completely discarding any remaining shred of sanity or composure. "You planned this! You knew Vance was on the guest list! You set my mother up because you wanted to destroy my family!"

I didn't answer him.

Sergeant Reyes took one step forward, planting herself between Jason and me. Her hand didn't move toward a weapon, but the cold, predatory stillness in her posture was enough to make Jason stop dead in his tracks, his finger trembling in mid-air.

"Mr. Wilson," Jessica said in a voice that was almost polite. "Step back. This is your final warning."

Jason looked around the room, wildly searching for an ally.

He looked at his college fraternity brothers; they looked down at their polished shoes. He looked at his senior managing director at the investment firm; the man was already slipping quietly through the double doors toward the valet parking area, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

He looked at his mother. Margaret was sitting on the stairs, weeping silently, her hands clutched over her ruined face.

"Katie..." Jason pleaded, his voice breaking into a miserable whine as he turned back to me. "Katie, please. Look at me. We love each other. We’ve been together two years! Are you really going to let a political argument destroy our future? We can leave right now! We don't need my parents' money! We can move to California! We can start over!"

I looked at Jason Wilson.

I looked at the man who had promised to love me, protect me, and stand beside me through sickness and health, through war and peace.