A middle-aged man in a Colonel’s uniform approaches my table, snapping to attention. It’s Mark Reynolds, a colleague from Ghost Grid. “Major General Bradley, an honor to see you here, sir,” he says, his voice carrying. A few heads turn. I stand, shake his hand. “Today I’m just a guest, Mark. No work, just family.” As he leaves, a woman at a nearby table whispers, “Major General? Must be a mistake. Will, a general? No way.”

I don’t need to explain. In one week, at Nexora Dynamics headquarters, my uniform and the authority it carries will speak for me.

I slip out onto a balcony, the city lights twinkling like artificial stars. I’m here because I promised my mother. Because, despite everything, I still love them. But today is just the beginning. In one week, everything will change.