She Saved Herself for Her Foster Brother, Not Me Chapter 07

She Saved Herself for Her Foster Brother, Not Me Chapter 07 What Was Left of Home

“Not yet,” I said.

By month four, I could jog. My right leg still lacked full power, but at least I looked normal again.

I began building my case.

Adjutant Chance delivered an encrypted phone and an anonymous email account. I reached out to a few loyal former subordinates still serving on base.

They sent me files.

The report on Zach’s Medal of Honor was riddled with inconsistencies. The timeline, the team roster, the intel sources–none of it added up.

Stella’s promotion file was even worse. Two–thirds of the credit was mine. On several key operation logs. my name had been scratched out and replaced with hers.

Financial records too.

Three properties had appeared under Zach’s name. Two vehicles. A seven–figure balance in his account No legitimate source.

Stella had gone further. She had used my connections to run military supply deals. The markup went straight into a shared account with Zach.

The total was enough to put them away for life.

“This is…” Adjutant Chance’s face went pale as he read through it.

“Still not enough,” I said. “I want her to confess.”

“She will not be that foolish.”

“She will.” I turned to the window. “Arrogant people always slip up.”

By month six, I was mostly healed.

My right leg still ached when it rained, but I could move. The scar on my chest had faded, but it was still visible.

Adjutant Chance asked about my next move.

“I am going home,” I said. “I need to pick up a few things.”

I wanted to see what had become of the house I had once given everything for.

Adjutant Chance arranged a car and a small team.

At dusk, the car pulled up outside Oakridge Military Housing.

I wore a hat and mask. Plain clothes. I limped through the gate. The guard was new. He did not recognize

me.
The two–story house was still standing.

I had knelt here for three days and nights. I had decorated the wedding room here, covered every wall with red. I had lived here for seven years, waiting for her to come home–though she rarely did.

The crabapple tree I had planted in the yard was dead.

Stella once told me she loved crabapple blossoms. So I planted one. I watered it every day. Now it was nothing but dried wood.

The living room lights were on.

I walked to the window. The curtains were not fully closed. A small gap.

Then I saw them.

Stella and Zach were on the couch.

She was wearing my shirt. The white one I never wore except on anniversaries. The one she had promised to sew a new button on for me.

Now it hung open. Nothing underneath.

Zach was on top of her. Rough. Relentless.

“Easy Zach…” Stella’s voice was breathy. “Do not ruin the shirt…”

“If it gets ruined, it gets ruined. It is not even yours.” Zach laughed. “That fool Ethan treasured it like gold.”

“Him…” Stella shoved him lazily. “Why bring him up? Total buzzkill.”

“I am just worried he might show up one day.”

“Show up?” Stella scoffed. “He is nothing but a useless waste.”

Zach laughed harder. He thrust into her with more force.

I stood outside the window. My hands were ice–cold. My feet were ice–cold.

It was not anger.

It was emptiness.

My stomach turned. I bent over and retched, but nothing came out.

Then I turned. I used my spare key to unlock the door.

pushed it open.

The two people on the couch froze.