Recruiter Sergeant Miller

"I'm pregnant," she declared, her voice trembling slightly. "The child is Edward's."

Moira and Ophelia's gazes grew even colder. The secretary stuttered, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. "I-if anything happens to me, the press will release statements and proof of my affair with Edward."

Ophelia leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "What do you want?" she asked, her tone icy.

The secretary straightened, trying to regain her composure. "I want to be recognized as a Blaire, and I want my baby to receive a share of the inheritance. Or else the press will—"

"Tell them," Ophelia interrupted with a small, chilling smile.

The secretary's bravado faltered. She hadn't expected such a response. "W-what?"

"Tell them," Ophelia repeated. "Do you think we care about a scandal? Do you think we haven't dealt with worse? You have no leverage here."

" You couldn't be serious!" She tried regaining composure.

Moira leaned forward, her eyes narrowing instead of the media threat drama she was more focused on something else. "How did you manage to survive unscathed from Edward's death?" she asked, her voice sharp.

The secretary straightened, her confidence returning. "I didn't stay long. I left after because Edward was acting weird," she replied.

" Define weird." Asked Moira.

" Excuse me?" The secretary asked.

" How weird was he?"

" I don't know, he was jittery after some call he had."

" Where were you then? You hid yourself why?" Asked Ophelia

" If I came out I would have been the prime suspect, there's also the shame I would have gone through." Shrugged the secretary.

" So why come out now?" Asked Moira prompting the woman to caress her belly with a small smile.

"It isn't just about me anymore. I have another life to take care of." She said.

Moira's expression hardened. "You seem too suspicious. I think we should call the police," she said, reaching for her phone.

The secretary's eyes widened in shock and mockery. "Why would I kill the man I loved and the father of my baby?" she exclaimed.

Her voice trembled with a mix of irritation anger. "You're just bitter because Edward loved me, and I conceived his child while you were scorned and tossed aside. I'm younger and prettier, and you can't stand it."

She stood up, her posture defiant. "This matter will go public, and I will sue the Blaires to ensure my child has a good upbringing," she declared proudly.

Ophelia and Moira watched her storm out quietly, their expressions unreadable. Once the door closed behind her, Moira turned to Ophelia. "She's a bad liar and definitely has a backer," she said.

"Definitely, but who?" Ophelia replied, her mind already racing through the possibilities.

"Who cares? We'll destroy them all. We will not settle. That girl is foolish, but we should expect more attacks coming our way. Dear, be careful of the board of directors," warned Moira.

"I'll handle everything," Ophelia said, her voice resolute.

*****************************

Neville had barely slept that Saturday, his mind racing with the events of the past few days. The confrontation with his family had reopened old wounds, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall, trying to make sense of it all.

On his nightstand lay an army enlistment brochure, its glossy cover catching the light. He picked it up, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. The images of soldiers in uniform, the promise of structure and purpose, called to him. He felt like he was drowning under the weight of his emotions.

As the hours passed, Neville's thoughts began to crystallize. The idea of joining the army started to make sense. It offered an escape, a way to channel his anger and frustration into something productive or maybe he just wanted to distract himself from his thoughts, and what better way than enlisting where he would too busy and sore to even think?

He could leave behind his life and find a new sense of purpose.

He sat up, his mind finally beginning to clear. The chaos hadn't vanished entirely, but a new resolve was forming, the decision solidifying.

He spent the rest of Sunday night researching, reading about different branches, different roles. He wasn't looking for glory or adventure; he was looking for a way to rebuild himself, to find a new foundation and perhaps a new identity. He needed structure, discipline, something to focus on other than the turmoil in his mind.

By the time Monday morning came, Neville had made up his mind. He sat at his desk, his laptop open in front of him. With a few clicks, he logged into his bank account and initiated several transfers, paying off the remaining debts. This drained his reserves severely. He only had two months' worth of expenses left to his name.

He dressed in a simple, clean outfit and grabbed the enlistment brochure. He left his apartment, the cool morning air helping to clear his head. The walk to the army recruitment center was a blur, his mind focused on the decision he had made.

When he arrived, the building was already bustling with activity there was a line of peoplefrom his guess, others who wanted to enlist because of the benefits or other reasons. He stepped inside, the sound of voices and the hum of computers filling the air. A receptionist greeted him with a polite smile.

"Good morning. How can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm here to talk to a recruiter," Neville replied, his voice steady.

"Of course. Please take a seat, and someone will be with you shortly," she said, gesturing to a row of chairs.

A while later~

"Alright, Mr. Neville, so you're interested in joining the Army. That's great to hear," Sergeant Miller said, leaning back in his chair. The office was small and functional, posters of soldiers scaling walls and jumping out of helicopters plastered on the walls.

"Yes, Sergeant," Neville replied, sitting upright, hands clasped in his lap. He tried to appeal to the sergeant cause he knew people talked and he didn't want an annoying life in the army.

"Now, you've indicated on your pre-screening form that you're interested in a combat role. Can you elaborate on that?"

"Yes, sir. I'm… I'm pretty good at that kind of stuff," Neville said, a slight hesitation in his voice. He wasn't one to brag, but he knew his strengths.

Sergeant Miller raised an eyebrow. "'That kind of thing' is a bit vague, Mr. Neville. What makes you think you're suited for combat?"

" I'm quick to react. I can stay relatively calm under pressure. And I'm physically fit." He paused, then added, "I'm also a good shot."

"Physically fit is good," Sergeant Miller said, nodding. "We'll test that. Good shot, you say? Have you had any formal training?"

"Yes, sir. I was trained as a bodyguard at some point." Neville chose his words carefully, not to hint at his expulsion because of "insubordination" as they put it. That kind of thing was a deal breaker especially at the army!

He was hoping his background check doesn't bring that up because it would be bad.

" I see. Why the army and why now?" Said the sergeant.

Neville said firmly. "I'm looking for a chance second chance and reevaluate my identity as a man."

"And you think that's in a combat arms MOS?" Sergeant Miller asked, using the military acronym for Military Occupational Specialty.

"Yes, sir. I do. It'sthe onlynthing I'm good at!" Answered Neville. As he said that the sergeant looked at Neville for a while before proceeding.

"Okay, let's talk specifics. What are you thinking? Infantry? Armor? Combat Engineer?"

Neville had done his research. "Infantry, sir. I want to be on the front lines."

"Infantry is tough," Sergeant Miller warned, "It's physically demanding, mentally taxing. Long hours, tough conditions, high risk. Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sure."

" Mr. Grey are you one of those people who have given up? If so you could be a danger to not only you but others in your company." Said the sergeant coldly.

" No sir, my skill set is very limited and because of a contract I can't continue with my previous line of work as a driver. I'm borderline broke but because I'm good at fighting this is the only logical option." Said Neville sincerely catching Sergeant Miller of guard.

"Alright. We'll need to run some tests, of course. The ASVAB, physical fitness test, medical screening. If you qualify, we can start talking about specific infantry MOSs. 11B, Infantryman, is the most common, but there are others, like 11C, Indirect Fire Infantryman, if you're interested in mortars."

"I'd prefer 11B, sir."

"Okay. We'll see what your scores say. Now, let's talk about your background. You've got a clean record, no legal issues? No drug use?"

"Clean record, sir. No drugs."

Sergeant Miller nodded slowly, his eyes assessing Neville. "The Army isn't for everyone. It's a commitment. It's a sacrifice. It's not always glamorous and for glory. There will be times when you're cold, tired, hungry, and scared. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes, sir," Neville said, his voice firm and unwavering. He met the sergeant's gaze directly. "I am."

Sergeant Miller leaned back again, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Alright, Mr. Neville. Let's get started with those tests."

He pulled a stack of papers from his desk. "We'll begin with the ASVAB…"