Caleb walked over and rested a heavy, warm hand on his son’s shoulder. “Yeah, kiddo?”
“The news said the FBI found a whistleblower,” Ethan whispered, his voice filled with quiet wonder. “They said someone hacked the department, leaked the videos, and sent the evidence straight to the federal prosecutor. Nobody knows who did it.”
Caleb looked at his son—the bright, hopeful eyes of a boy with his entire life still ahead of him.
“Sometimes, Ethan,” Caleb said gently, a faint smile touching his lips, “the right people are just watching out for you.”
Marcus caught Caleb’s gaze from across the bed. The surgeon gave a subtle, respectful nod—a silent acknowledgment between two old soldiers who understood the cost of peace.
That evening, Caleb returned to the Livingston County Courthouse.
The building was empty and quiet. The federal agents had left, the press had moved on, and the grand marble halls were silent once again.
