The War Hero's Daughter

"Emily Wertheimer, I'm sorry to inform you that you have not passed the security clearance."

The voice on the other end of the line was cold and emotionless.

"What's the reason?" I barely managed to squeeze the words out.

"Your immediate family member has a major international criminal record. According to relevant regulations, this does not meet the standards for national defense majors."

"Which immediate family member?"

"Your father. For specific details, we suggest you check with your local DOJ. We can only give you the final result here."

"Wait—"

Click. The line went dead.

I frantically opened my phone, but before I could even figure out who to call, a message popped up in our class group chat.

Tyler Brooks: [@All Huge news, guys—you know our class's top student? Her security clearance got denied. She's finished.]

Tyler Brooks: [The spawn of a murderer actually dared to apply to the National Defense Academy? What a ballsy move!]

The group chat exploded instantly.

[Tyler, are you insane?]

[Stop spreading rumors, will you?]

[Holy crap, where'd you even hear this?]

Tyler replied with a laughing emoji, then sent another message.

[Rumors? Then tell her to come out and deny it.]

I stared at the chat, tears falling uncontrollably onto my screen.

"Emily?"

Dad walked up to me carrying a plate of food, a warm smile still on his face.

"What are you doing standing here? Everyone's waiting for you to eat!"

"Dad…" I cut him off. "My security clearance got denied."

Dad froze on the spot. His hand slipped, and the bowl crashed to the floor with a loud clatter—the sound jolting him back to reality.

"What did you say? No way—your mom and I have clean records!"

"It's not you two."

"Then who?"

"My biological father. They said he has an international criminal record."

Mom heard the commotion and rushed out of the kitchen. "Emily, don't panic—this has to be a mistake. Your real dad was a war hero. How could he have a criminal record?"

"I don't think it's right either."

Dad grabbed me by the shoulders, his grip firm and strong. "I'm heading to the state capital tomorrow to get this sorted. An innocent person doesn't just get slandered like this."

Mom crouched down and pulled me into a hug. I could feel her breathing grow heavier, her body trembling just slightly.

The neighbors in the yard exchanged awkward glances. That dinner ended in a heavy, suffocating silence.

That night, I locked my bedroom door.

The National Defense Academy—its advanced engineering program—was a dream I'd held since I was little. Because that was the uniform my biological father wore.

I curled up under the covers and cried alone. Then my phone rang.

"Hello, Emily Wertheimer? I'm a reporter with the local news. Online, there is—"

I hung up immediately.

I opened the search bar. The trending topic was right at the top: #Top 32 Statewide Rank Fails Security Clearance Due to Family Criminal Record#

The comments were filled with vicious attacks. The one at the very top cut the deepest: [How dare the child of a criminal set foot in national defense? For all we know, the whole family are traitors.]

I couldn't sleep that entire night.

I couldn't accept this outcome—and more than that, I couldn't accept anyone slandering my father.