He tilted his head like, What?
I hesitated,
then said it aloud for the first time.
“A foundation for veterans, for women who get pushed aside by their families. A place to rebuild.”
Jack studied me for a long moment, then smiled.
“That’s one hell of an objective, Captain.”
“It’s not just about revenge,” I said. “It’s about proving that what Megan called worthless can change lives.”
Jack raised his bottle.
“Then you build it and don’t let anyone stop you.”
That night, I sat at the table drafting ideas in a notebook. I listed names: Whitmore Veterans and Women Foundation. I wrote goals, transitional housing, job training, counseling. I had no funding yet, but I had land, legal proof, and minerals underfoot worth more than Megan’s condo a hundred times over.
The next day, I drove into town for supplies: paint, lumber, hardware. At the register, the clerk asked, “Fixing up the Whitmore place?”
