I held his gaze.
“No.”
That caught him.
“No?”
“No. I don’t expect them to believe it was random. I expect them to understand how federal review systems work. Harbor Shield Recovery appeared because its certifications were inconsistent with verified service-linked ownership records. The system flagged it. I reviewed the file. Then I saw my name.”
Renner’s mouth tightened.
I continued.
“My copied signature. My service record. My hardship narrative. My identity.”
The judge looked at Renner.
“Counsel, move along.”
Renner’s voice sharpened.
“Commander Moore, do you hate your brother?”
My mother inhaled sharply.
Grant turned toward me.
The whole courtroom seemed to lean.
For eight years, people had used emotion to discredit me.
Anger made me unstable.
Hurt made me bitter.
Silence made me guilty.
So I answered carefully.
“No.”
Renner looked disappointed.
“You don’t hate him?”
“No.”
“After everything you claim he did?”
“I don’t hate Grant.”
I turned slightly, just enough to see him.
“I no longer have room for him.”
Grant’s face changed.
That landed deeper than hate would have.
Renner looked down at his pad.
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