I stood on the Pentagon’s honor deck, the weight of the medal on my chest nothing compared to the silence in my heart. Generals clapped my back, the President called me a national treasure, and reporters screamed questions I didn’t answer. They wanted to know where I’d been, how I survived, what the mission was. I only said one thing: "I have a date with my future wife."

No one believed me. Not even Daniela, who watched from the crowd with a tight smile. She thought I was lying to impress her. She had no idea I’d bought her company’s parent firm six months ago. No idea the job she loved was my gift.

Later, at the gala, I brought her roses. She looked at them like they were weeds. "You’re embarrassing me," she hissed, tossing them into a trash can. "I’m done pretending you’re someone important."

I didn’t flinch. "You’re not mad at me," I said quietly. "You’re mad at yourself. Because you traded love for a paycheck."

She laughed. "And what are you, Tobias? A broke veteran playing dress-up?"

I rolled up my sleeve. The titanium joints in my arm hummed to life, glowing faintly blue. Her face went pale. "Only one man in the world has a mechanical arm like this," I said. "And he owns everything you think matters."

She stepped back. "You’re lying."

I smiled. "Check your email. Your termination notice just went out."

As I walked away, I saw her scramble for her phone. But I wasn’t looking back. Because across the room, Jasmine Bloom was watching me—eyes sharp, lips parted—and for the first time in years, I felt seen.