Paramedics arrived quickly, secured my neck, and carried me into an ambulance while voices blurred around me. At a military medical center nearby, scans revealed a fractured collarbone, cracked ribs, and a concussion that required observation overnight.
I texted Colonel Stephen Brooks, a trusted mentor, instead of calling family, and that choice said more than I needed to explain.
By afternoon, I was resting when Brooke entered wearing a polished outfit and oversized sunglasses, looking more curious than concerned. She glanced at the equipment and said, “So what brought you back so suddenly?”
“Leave,” I replied.
“For what reason?”
“Private reasons.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Does that involve money?”
I remained silent, and she smiled as if she had her answer. “Good,” she said softly, stepping aside, “because I brought someone who can help you handle something that big.”
A man in a tailored suit walked in carrying a folder, and Brooke’s expression shifted into something polished and rehearsed. “Derek,” she said, “meet my sister, she’s the one who inherited everything.”
He barely introduced himself before I spoke. “No.”
He paused, confused. “I’m sorry?”