Chapter 10 - ONE YEAR LATER, I WALKED INTO THE NEW GALA IN UNIFORM—AND NO ONE DARED CALL ME UNSTABLE EVER AGAIN**
One year to the day after the Fairmont gala, we held the first annual fundraiser for the new fund.
We didn’t do it at a fancy hotel. We did it at the American Legion hall in Alexandria. Paper plates. Buffet food. Beer and soda. No white roses. No string quartet.
Two hundred people showed up. Veterans. Their families. Donors who’d stuck with us. Politicians who’d earned the right to be there. Agent Hale was there, in a terrible ill-fitting suit, laughing at Jimmy Carter’s terrible jokes. Claire—my new chief of staff, a Marine vet I’d met through the fund—was running the show like the tactical genius she was.
I was in my dress uniform this time. Pressed. Clean. All my medals in the right place. No mud. No tears. No trembling hands.
I got up to speak.
The room went quiet.
“A year ago tonight,” I said, “I walked into a ballroom still covered in dust from a combat zone, and my sister slapped me in front of half of Washington because I wouldn’t let her steal from you. Tonight, we’re in a Legion hall with paper plates, and we’ve raised more money in one night than my father’s fake gala raised in the last three years combined. More than $2.3 million. All of it. Every penny. Going straight to veterans in need.”
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A cheer went up.
“Today, my father was sentenced to twelve years in federal prison. Celia got eight. Nolan got ten. They’ll be eligible for parole… but not before they’re old and gray. They lost everything. Their money. Their freedom. Their names. And they have
