The Admiral's Vengeance

Back at the naval medical facility, the room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the city lights outside the reinforced windows.

I sat propped up against a stack of pillows, sipping chamomile tea while my father sat quietly in the armchair beside the bed, reviewing tactical briefings on a secured tablet.

"You're working too hard, Dad," I said softly, breaking the silence.

My father looked up, his severe expression softening as he set the tablet aside. "A commander never rests while there's a hostile threat remaining in the sector, Genevieve. And Julian Vance is a neutralized threat, but his associates are still scattering like cockroaches."

"I was so blind," I murmured, staring down at the wedding ring on my left hand—the simple platinum band Julian had bought me back when we were living in a tiny studio apartment eating ramen noodles. "I wanted to believe he loved me for who I am. I hid my background because I was terrified men would only want me for my father's name or my family's money."

My father reached over, covering my hand with his.

"You didn't make a mistake by wanting something real, Gen," my father said, his voice steady and deeply reassuring. "You made a mistake by giving a wolf the keys to the hen house. But remember who you are. You’re a Sterling. We don't break when we're betrayed. We rebuild, and we clean house."

The door chimed softly, and Dr. Evans stepped inside, holding a fresh chart with a bright smile.

"Well, Mrs. Vance—or should I say, Miss Sterling?" Dr. Evans chuckled gently. "Your vital signs are completely normal. The contractions have stopped entirely. If you keep resting, we might even let you move to the Admiral’s private estate by the end of the week."

A wave of profound relief washed over me. For the first time in months, the heavy, suffocating weight on my chest lifted. My baby was safe. The nightmare was ending.