Chapter 2 - My Mother Was Proud of Me—Until She Learned Someone Had Been Secretly Photographing Her Military Records at SchoolThe next morning, Mom woke me earlier than usual.
“Get dressed.”
I sat up.
“Why?”
“We're going to school together.”
That immediately worried me.
“Did I do something?”
“No.”
“Then why are you coming?”
“Because the principal asked me to.”
I watched her.
She looked serious.
“What happened?”
“Nothing I can discuss yet.”
That was the answer she always gave when something was classified.
I knew better than to push.
At school, people stared.
Not because of me.
Because Mom walked beside me in uniform.
Students whispered.
Some smiled.
Others looked uncomfortable.
The same boy who had called me a fraud yesterday suddenly moved out of our way.
I almost laughed.
Mom noticed.
“Don't enjoy it too much.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
Maybe I was.
We reached the principal's office.
Principal Carter stood immediately.
“Major Miller.”
“Principal Carter.”
He shook her hand.
Then he closed the door.
I sat outside.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then thirty.
Finally, Mom came out.
She crouched beside me.
“Everything okay?”
I asked.
“Not exactly.”
“What happened?”
She hesitated.
“Someone accessed a restricted file.”
“What file?”
“Mine.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
She looked toward the principal's office.
“Your school received a request for military verification.”
“From who?”
“An anonymous email.”
“Why would someone need to verify you?”
“They didn't.”
She looked at me.
“That is the problem.”
The principal joined us.
“Lucas, there is something else.”
I looked at him.
“Someone took photographs of your mother's military credentials from the administrative office.”
I froze.
“How?”
“We're investigating.”
Mom's expression hardened.
“Show me the footage.”
Principal Carter nodded.
We went to the security room.
The footage showed a person entering the administrative hallway the previous afternoon.
The face wasn't visible.
But the person was wearing a Northwood staff jacket.
I stared at the screen.
“Do you know who that is?”
“No,” the principal said.
Mom leaned closer.
“Stop.”
The footage froze.
“What?”
“Zoom in.”
The security officer enlarged the image.
A small patch was visible on the person's sleeve.
A blue falcon.
Mom stared at it.
“That's not a school patch.”
“What is it?” I asked.
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she said:
“It's a contractor's emblem.”
The principal looked confused.
“We don't have contractors with that logo.”
Mom turned toward him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She pulled out her phone.
“I've seen it before.”
“Where?”
“Near my base.”
My stomach dropped.
“Mom…”
She looked at me.
“Don't worry.”
But she didn't sound convinced.
That afternoon, the school canceled classes for an hour because of a security investigation.
Rumors spread.
Some students thought there was a bomb threat.
Others said a famous person was visiting.
Nobody knew the truth.
Except me.
And Mom.
When we got home, two military vehicles were parked outside.
I stared.
“What's happening?”
Mom opened the door.
“Stay inside.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
She walked toward the officers.
I watched from the window.
One of them handed her a folder.
She read it.
Then looked toward our house.
Her face changed.
She came inside.
“Lucas.”
“Yes?”
“Pack a small bag.”
“Why?”
“We may need to leave tonight.”
My heart began pounding.
“Are we in danger?”
She knelt beside me.
“I don't know.”
“Then why are you scared?”
She smiled sadly.
“Because knowing what you don't know can be more dangerous than knowing what you do.”
I packed.
At 8:40 p.m., someone knocked on our door.
Mom didn't answer.
The knock came again.
Then a voice.
“Major Miller?”
Mom looked at me.
“Go upstairs.”
I obeyed.
I stood at the top of the staircase.
The door opened.
A man in civilian clothes entered.
He showed Mom an identification card.
I couldn't see it clearly.
They spoke quietly.
Then the man said:
“We believe someone is trying to identify pilots who participated in a classified operation.”
Mom's face went still.
“What operation?”
He looked at her.
“You know which one.”
I didn't understand.
But Mom did.
She turned toward the stairs.
Our eyes met.
And in that moment, I knew.
Whatever had happened years ago wasn't over.
May you like
Someone had remembered my mother.
And now they had found me.
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