[Five Months Later – May]The counter-terrorism operation was consuming Achilles' life. Sixteen-hour days. Endless surveillance. The Archelords' sympathizers were more organized than initial intelligence suggested.They'd identified the leader; a man calling himself "The Scorpion." Former Juma operative who'd escaped the original crackdown. He was training the recruits. Building a new network. Planning something big.But they couldn't find him. Every lead went cold. Every surveillance dead-ended.Achilles sat in his office at midnight, reviewing footage for the hundredth time. His eyes burned, his head pounded. The wedding was six weeks away and he hadn't helped with a single thing.His phone buzzed, it was Margaret:[Are you coming home tonight?]He checked his watch. 12:17 AM. He'd promised to be home by ten.He responded: [Soon. Sorry. Got caught up in something.][You're always caught up in somethin

[June 15th – Historic Liverpool Cathedral]The cathedral bells rang across the city. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, painting the stone floor in blues, reds, and golds. Two hundred guests filled the pews; military personnel in dress uniforms, government officials, friends, and family.Achilles stood at the altar, Brigadier George beside him. His dress uniform was perfect. Medals polished. Every detail is exact. But his hands were sweating.“You look nervous" George whispered with a beam“I'm not…” Achilles' voice cracked while he managed to exhale.Brig. George teased further: “You're definitely nervous. I can see it.”“I'm marrying the love of my life in front of two hundred people. I'm allowed to be nervous.”“Fair point.” George smiled: “But she's going to show up. Stop worrying.”The organ music started. Everyone stood. Achilles took a deep breath.First came Brigadier Rachael Beaut

[One Year Later – Anthony Hector Memorial, Royal Military Academy]The memorial stood in the academy's main courtyard. A bronze statue of Brigadier Anthony Hector in dress uniform, hand raised in salute. Beneath it, an inscription:[Brigadier Anthony Hector – A soldier of honor. A leader of courage. A man who served with distinction. Falsely accused. Unjustly condemned. Forever remembered]Achilles stood before it with Margaret and Gabrielle. His nine-year-old daughter held a bouquet of flowers. In Margaret's arms, wrapped in a blue blanket, was their three-month-old son—Anthony Hector II.“Is that really Grandpa?” Gabrielle asked, looking up at the statue.“That's him. Exactly as I remember him.” Achilles felt his throat tighten: “Strong. Proud. Honorable.”“He looks like you, Daddy.”“I hope I'm half the man he was.”Margaret squeezed his hand: “You are. He'd be so proud of you. Of everything you've accomplished. Everything you've become.”Achilles looked at his family. At his daugh