Chapter 2

"Sorry, but this file's information has already been verified and confirmed by a higher-level authority. It cannot be changed."

Dad stood at the archive counter, struggling to keep his composure.

"Verified what? My adopted daughter's biological father is a war hero! Did you even bother checking the original records?"

The clerk barely glanced at him, flipping through a couple of papers without looking up.

"Sir, this is what the system shows. I only have query access. You can file an appeal with the Department of Education."

"Then tell me—when was this record entered? And by who?"

"I don't have the clearance for that."

Dad slammed his fist on the counter, startling the people waiting in line behind him.

The clerk finally looked up, pushing up his glasses with clear annoyance.

"Sir, I'll call the police if you keep this up."

I rushed over and pulled Dad back.

"Dad, let's go to the Department of Education."

Dad looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. This sixty-something-year-old man suddenly looked like a helpless child.

"Emily, I promise I'll get to the bottom of this."

He hopped on his old motorbike and headed toward the city.

I stood at the entrance, watching his figure fade into the distance.

Forty minutes later, the call didn't come from Dad—it came from the hospital.

"Is this Emily Wartheimer? Your father was hit by a car running a red light at the intersection of Red Star and Main. He's been rushed to the ER."

I grabbed a cab to the hospital, shaking uncontrollably, and called Mom several times before she finally picked up.

When I got to the hospital and saw Dad covered in blood, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

"Dad!"

His hand was mangled, but he was clutching a plastic bag with a death grip.

Inside were the appeal documents he'd prepared to submit to the Department of Education.

"Emily… the papers didn't get ruined," he said, forcing a smile through the pain. "My legs might be busted, but my head's still working."

Mom collapsed to the ground sobbing the moment she saw Dad. It took the nurses a while to help her back to her feet.

After they wheeled Dad back into surgery, I grabbed his bag of documents and headed straight to the Department of Education.

After waiting in line for two hours, I finally made it to the counter.

"Miss, security clearance appeals don't fall under our jurisdiction. You need to go to the Admissions Office."

"The Admissions Office sent me here, and you're sending me back. So who actually handles this?"

"Calm down, that's just how the process works—"

I slapped the documents on the counter.

"Just tell me—who am I supposed to talk to?"

The clerk glanced at me, then lowered her voice.

"Miss, let me be honest with you. Once a security clearance denial gets filed—especially one that was reported by someone—it's nearly impossible to overturn. You might want to consider switching majors."

I grabbed the documents and stepped back.

At the entrance of the Department of Education, Mom was standing in the rain, holding an umbrella. I didn't know when it had started raining, but she was already completely soaked.

"Emily, what did they say?"

"They won't help."

"Then we'll go to the city government!"

"Mom." I took her hand. "You go back to the hospital and stay with Dad. I'll go myself."

"No way. I'm coming with you."

Once Mom digs her heels in, there's no stopping her.

We walked through the rain toward the city government building. Just as we reached the entrance, a black sedan pulled up right in front of us.

A middle-aged woman stepped out with two bodyguards. I'd seen her at parent-teacher conferences—she always sat in the seat reserved for Tyler's parents.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Werheimers. Heading in to make a scene?"

Mom tightened her grip on the umbrella.

"Miriam, we're here to file a legitimate appeal. This has nothing to do with you."

Miriam Johnson tilted her head and gave a polished, practiced smile.

"A legitimate appeal? The daughter of a criminal trying to get into the National Defense Academy—that's a joke at the expense of national security."

"My daughter's biological father was a war hero!"

"A war hero?" Miriam blocked our path. "You say he's a hero—who's going to believe that?"

She stepped closer, almost right in our faces.

"I'd advise you to drop this. Save your energy and start reconsidering your options. Some schools just aren't meant for certain people."

Mom's hands were shaking with rage.

"What business is it of yours? What we do is our own business!"

Miriam let out a scoff and brushed past us. But as her bodyguards followed, one of them deliberately shoved Mom—hard. She tumbled down the wet steps, landing in a heap on the soaked pavement.

I rushed to help her up. Blood was mixing with the rain puddles beneath her.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Miriam had already turned away, closing her umbrella and getting back into the car.

The two bodyguards just shrugged. "Whoops, looks like she slipped. Not our fault—we didn't touch her."

Mom knelt in the rain, clutching the soaked pile of documents, and finally broke down sobbing.

I crouched beside her, gritting my teeth, unable to say a single word.

The rain kept pouring harder.

It felt like the whole world had turned its back on us.