Chapter 7 - THE RECKONING
Marcus finally raised his head from the wooden bench. His face was red, covered in sweat and dirt, his eyes wide as he looked back and forth between his stepdaughter and the old veteran.
For three years, Marcus had paraded around his home, bragging about his martial-arts trophies, displaying his fake shadow box, and belittling Jessica as a weak, helpless girl who worked behind a computer screen in D.C.
Now, as he looked at her, the terrifying reality sank into his chest.
The woman he had lived with—the stepdaughter he had tried to humiliate in front of his friends—was a highly trained, elite operative whose true background was so far beyond his fake trophies that he couldn't even comprehend it.
"Jessica..." Marcus stammered, his voice small, raspy, and entirely stripped of its former bravado. "You... you could have broken my arm."
Jessica turned her dark eyes down to look at him. There was no hatred in her look, no desire for revenge or spite. There was only a cold, professional detachment that made him feel microscopic.
"I controlled the force, Marcus," Jessica said quietly. "Just like I control everything else in this house."
She looked past him, into the living room, staring directly at the shiny shadow box hanging on the wall.
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"You should take that box down," Jessica added softly, her voice carrying a weight that made the entire backyard shudder. "It’s an insult to the people who actually earned those marks."
Marcus swallowed hard, his neck flushing bright red. He didn't argue. He didn't yell. He simply nodded his head once, staring down at his dirty hands in silence.
