“You’ve served your country. You understand discipline and patience. This is no different. You hold the advantage. Don’t let them bait you into rash moves.”
I gave a short laugh.
“That’s Megan’s specialty, baiting.”
He smiled.
“Then you’ll have to specialize in not biting.”
I left his office lighter than I’d walked in. Driving back toward the mountains, I kept thinking about Dad’s words. Build something with it. Megan would sell everything to the highest bidder. I wanted something that lasted.
When I pulled into the cabin’s driveway, Jack was there chopping wood. He eyed the folder in my hands.
“So, you bulletproof now?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “Dad set everything up. Megan’s got no legal ground.”
Jack grinned, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Good, because those people came by again while you were gone. I told them to back off. Didn’t like the look they gave me, though.”
“They’ll be back,” I said. “Megan doesn’t quit.”
Jack nodded slowly.
“Then don’t you quit either.”
That night, I spread the documents on the table, studying every line until the words blurred. It felt like preparing for a mission. Supplies ready, objectives clear, threats identified. The army had drilled me for combat zones, but the battlefield now was my own bloodline.
The next day, I got an email from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. One of Dad’s old contacts had confirmed the mineral survey, noting its strategic value. That phrase hit me differently. Strategic value wasn’t just money. It meant potential contracts, government interest, leverage on a national scale.
