Chapter 37 #2
The courtroom went dead silent. I felt my breath catch as she continued reading, my heart hammering as I heard about Nate—my Nate—exposing himself to enemy fire to reach wounded Marines, carrying two wounded civilians over open ground while under sniper fire, evacuating his patients and immediately returning with another unit to the battle lines to treat other wounded.
This is why he never talks about it, I realized with stunning clarity.
Not because he's ashamed, but because to him, it was just doing his job.
The man who sang "Three Little Birds" to his daughter every night, who packed her lunches with surgical precision, who'd taught her about periods with color-coded charts, that same man had run through enemy fire to save lives. Had been willing to die for strangers.
And he'd never once mentioned it. Never used it to make himself look good, never brought it up during our worst moments. Never. He'd let Brad Kensington try to destroy him with his trauma rather than reveal the heroism that had caused it.
I looked at Nate and saw him sitting rigidly straight, his face flushed with what looked like embarrassment rather than pride.
He kept glancing around the courtroom as if he wanted to disappear, completely uncomfortable with the public praise.
Of course he is, I thought. He probably thinks this is showing off.
I watched Sarah's face go ashen. Brad looked like he might throw up. Even Judge Morrison had straightened in his chair, his previous dismissive attitude completely evaporated.
"His timely and effective care undoubtedly saved the lives of numerous casualties," Ms. Hayes concluded. "Hospitalman Apprentice Crawford's actions reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the United States Naval Service."
She set the citation down with deliberate precision.
"Your Honor, Mr. Kensington has spent this morning attempting to destroy the reputation of a Navy Cross recipient—an honor held by fewer than seven thousand Americans—by weaponizing the very trauma he sustained while saving the lives of Marines and Iraqi civilians.
I submit that this behavior is not only unprofessional but morally reprehensible. "
That's my man, I thought fiercely, tears in my eyes. The pride that swelled in my chest was so intense it was almost painful. This quiet, honorable man who'd been willing to walk into this courtroom alone to protect his daughter—our daughter—was a genuine American hero.
And somehow, impossibly, he was mine.
Judge Morrison cleared his throat, visibly shaken. “I… had no knowledge of these commendations, Counselor. Let the record reflect that the full citation has been entered into evidence.”
Brad looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. The confident smirk he'd worn all morning had been replaced by something that looked suspiciously like shame.
"Now then," Ms. Hayes said, turning back to Sarah with the kind of smile a shark might wear.
Sarah looked like she was about to be sick.
"Ms. Davis, I'll ask you one final question.
If Mr. Crawford were to agree to seal these proceedings and sign a non-disclosure agreement—meaning the public and your investors would never know the outcome—would you be willing to withdraw your petition? "
The question hung in the air like a bomb with the pin pulled. Sarah's eyes darted to Brad, to the judge, to anywhere but Ms. Hayes's penetrating stare.
"I... I..." Sarah stammered.
"Take your time," Ms. Hayes said pleasantly. "Though I should mention that Meridian Capital's due diligence team is quite thorough. I imagine they'll be very interested in these proceedings regardless."
And that's when Sarah Davis—venture capital darling, devoted mother, reformed woman—finally broke.
"This isn't fair!" she burst out, her carefully cultivated composure shattering completely. "I'm her mother! I gave birth to her! I have rights!"
Her voice climbed higher, more desperate. "You can't just—I need this! Do you understand? I NEED this!"
"Ms. Davis," Judge Morrison warned, his voice sharp.
But Sarah was beyond hearing him now, beyond caring about appearances. "Twelve years ago, I was nobody! I was nothing! Working at a fucking coffee shop, taking classes I couldn't afford! I was drowning, and I made a choice! I made the only choice I could!"
Tears were streaming down her face now; not the calculated tears of a manipulative mother, but the ugly, desperate sobs of someone watching their carefully constructed world collapse.
"And now I finally have something! I built something! And my investors expect, they need to see—" She looked around the courtroom wildly. "You don't understand what you're taking from me!"
"Your Honor," Brad said weakly, rising to try to salvage something from the wreckage, but Sarah wasn't finished.
"She's MY daughter!" Sarah screamed, pointing at Nate. "Not his! Mine! I MADE her! SHE EXISTS BECAUSE OF ME!"
The mask was completely off now. No maternal love, no desire to nurture—just raw, narcissistic ownership. The ugly truth of what she saw Paige as: not a child to be loved, but a possession to be claimed.
Judge Morrison's gavel came down like thunder. "That's enough! Ms. Davis, control yourself, or I'll have you removed from my courtroom!"
But the damage was done. Sarah Davis—venture capital darling, devoted mother, reformed woman—had finally shown everyone exactly who she really was.
And it was exactly what Ms. Hayes had been waiting for.