Chapter 5 - The Admiral’s Journey
Beneath the navy dress,
my skin was mapped with scars that no one in this room could explain.
There was a jagged line on my shoulder from a shrapnel burst in the Gulf.
There was a faint mark on my wrist from a training exercise in the North Sea.
And there was the weight of responsibility that had etched itself into my soul.
When I walked away from Walter Foley's porch,
I didn't go to Scott Parker,
and I didn't go to the gutter.
I went to the recruitment office.
I traded my Foley name for a serial number,
and my silk dresses for a set of stiff,
navy blues.
In the Navy,
no one cared who my father was.
No one cared how much money was in my bank account.
They only cared if I could lead.
They only cared if I could keep my head when the world was screaming.
I spent twenty-one years climbing the ladder of a different kind of hierarchy.
I studied the sea,
and the stars,
and the complex mathematics of war.
I rose from an ensign,
to a lieutenant,
to a commander.
And eventually,
I was given the stars of an Admiral.
I had spent the last five years commanding a fleet that protected the very trade routes that made Walter Foley rich.
I had met presidents,
and kings,
and leaders of industry who wouldn't give Walter the time of day.
But I never told them.
I never sent a letter to the estate.
I never called to brag about my stars.
Because I wanted to see if I could be "nothing,"
and still become everything.
The silver bracelet under my sleeve was a gift from my crew,
engraved with the coordinates of our first successful mission.
It was worth more to me than every ice sculpture in the world.
As the wedding dinner progressed,
the servers brought out lobster tails and truffle risotto.
I ate quietly,
listening to the vanity of the people around me.
They talked about yachts,
and private islands,
and the latest scandals in the city.
They were so wrapped up in their own small world of status,
that they couldn't see the woman sitting right next to them.
They didn't see the Admiral.
They only saw the ghost.
I looked at Mason,
who was laughing at something his bride said.
Isabella was a beautiful woman,
with a sharp,
intelligent face and eyes that didn't miss a thing.
She wasn't a Foley bride,
not really.
She was a doctor,
a scientist,
and as it turned out,
a former Navy officer herself.
Mason had met her when she was stationed in San Diego.
And Isabella knew exactly who I was.
She was the one who had made sure I was invited.
May you like
She was the one who had insisted that "Aunt Ruth" have a seat in this room.
And she was the one who was about to change the narrative of the Foley family forever.
