Chapter 3

The next morning, a colleague from the unit sent me a photo.

Three words in the message: [Look at this.]

The first thing I saw was Megan's name.

The official commendation stated that during the landslide rescue operation, she had persisted in her life-sign assessment, urged the team to continue searching, and demonstrated an extraordinary commitment to preserving human life.

Bolt's service commendation was credited to her as well.

As for me, there was one line.

[Vivian Dawson exercised poor judgment, disregarded safety protocols, and entered a hazardous zone without authorization, resulting in injury.]

I read the whole thing.

Nobody mentioned I'd been working sixteen hours straight.

Nobody mentioned I went into that rubble because I was ordered to.

I'd become the textbook example of insubordination.

I filed a formal objection with the unit that same day.

The ISRC was reviewing my credentials. Once this mission report was finalized, that false commendation would follow me for the rest of my career.

I requested the body cam footage, the collapse warning data, and the on-site command log.

The request was denied within hours.

Denied by Ethan.

That night, he video-called me.

His face on the screen looked annoyed. "Vivian, how long are you going to keep this up?"

I was propped against my hospital bed. The wound was still hot with infection. "I didn't act without authorization."

He was still angry. "I'm the field commander. I have the authority to adjust the rescue plan based on conditions."

"Then why did you delete the record of your order?"

He went silent for a second or two. Then his expression turned cold. "Are you really going to hang on to one sentence? Megan's been getting trashed online for days over this. She has no professional credentials. This commendation matters to her."

I stared at him. "So you erased my record for it?"

"You've got me and the unit behind you. There'll be plenty of missions ahead. Megan only has this one shot."

He said it like it was obvious.

Like what I lost was just a piece of paper that didn't matter.

I gripped the phone. "I trained Bolt for five years. Why is his service record under Megan's name?"

He shrugged. "Megan's the one taking care of him now. She understands him. She's a better fit as his partner than you ever were."

I stared at him. "Her so-called understanding cost me my hand."

"Here we go again." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Vivian, you're clearly emotionally unstable right now. I'm not doing this with you."

The next day, I received a personnel file update.

Ethan added a note.

[Emotionally unstable. Lacks team compliance. Not recommended for rescue operations. (noted by Ethan Cole)]

The ISRC HR officer contacted me immediately, requesting clarification.

I stared at that evaluation. The last trace of hope I had left died right there.

Ethan wasn't just handing Megan my commendation.

He was cutting off my exit.

...

I didn't call him to argue.

The nurse had photographed my emergency intake forms when I was brought in. The hospital had my full admission timestamp and surgical records. The collapse monitoring system had auto-uploaded a warning to the central platform. The unit had no authority to delete backend data.

I gathered every piece of evidence I could find and sent it to the ISRC.

Typing with one hand was slow. Every keystroke sent a jolt of pain through the stump.

I didn't stop.

At 2 a.m., their reply came.

[We have initiated an independent background check. We will not accept a unilateral assessment from your former unit.]

[Focus on your recovery. Your capabilities should not be defined by a falsified report.]

I stared at those two sentences for a long time.

A stranger who had never met me was willing to look for the truth first.

Yet the man I'd loved for six years only believed Megan's tears.

I closed the commendation page and submitted a request to seal my evidence.

Those people who only believed Megan, I didn't need them.