When I announced my decision to enlist, my father looked at me with the sting of betrayal in his eyes. “The army?” he’d said, his voice low and incredulous. “You want to spend your life in barracks earning pennies when you could have a corner office overlooking the Potomac?” Brian, just 18 then, had shrugged. “If you want to play hero, go ahead.”

The distance between us grew. I poured myself into my work, climbing the ranks from Captain to Major General at 36, one of the youngest in history. I led Operation Sentinel Fire, thwarting a cyber-attack from a hostile nation. I founded Ghost Grid. I testified before Congress. I sent invitations to every ceremony, every promotion. The response was always silence. My mother would occasionally call, her voice a gentle prod: “When are you coming to work for the company, Willie?” My father was blunter: “When you’re done playing soldier, let me know.”