The air inside the military courtroom felt heavier than ever. Every breath seemed to carry tension, every eye was watching for a falter in my step. I stood before the Marshal’s bench—calm, unwavering.
Marshal narrowed his eyes at me, voice sharp and leveled with authority.
“Major General Nathaniel, can you explain why you went to the residence of the Graysons and directly accused them of the murder of their own son?”
I stood straight, voice clear and steady.
“Because I still stand firmly on that ground, sir. The Graysons have everything to do with the death of Daniel.”
There was a murmur from the crowd of officers, but I didn’t let it distract me.
“While Daniel was still alive,” I continued, my jaw clenched, “he was abused—physically and emotionally—by Luther Grayson. I have a witnes
