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The air in the bank was cold, a stark contrast to the warm spring day outside. I shifted, the familiar ache in my leg a dull reminder of my past, as the teller tapped at her keyboard. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hayes," she said, "I can't seem to find a joint account under that name for you." I frowned, "That's not possible. It's a joint savings, with my wife, Sarah Hayes. We've had it for years." "I see a Sarah Hayes," the teller replied slowly, "but the account lists her as Sarah Miller. And you are not listed as a signatory." Miller. The name hit me like a physical blow. My former commanding officer. The man whose orders had sent my team into an ambush, ending my career and leaving me with a leg full of metal. My world tilted as I stumbled out of the bank, clutching a phone that shook in my hand. Then, I heard her voice, bright and cheerful. "Liam! Honey, is everything okay?" "I heard your voicemail, Sarah." My voice was eerily flat. Silence. Then, a choked sound. "Liam... I can explain..." "No," I cut her off. "There's nothing to explain. I just called to say... congratulations." I hung up, the emptiness inside me starting to fill with a purpose I hadn't felt since I wore the uniform. They thought I was a broken man, a harmless relic. They were about to find out how wrong they were.