Chapter 3 - The Confrontation at Fort Belvoir

They didn't think I would actually hold the line. They thought if they ambushed me in public, the "good, obedient daughter" would cave.
On Wednesday afternoon, my assistant knocked on my door. "Major Vance? There is a civilian couple and a woman at the visitor center demanding to see you. They claim it’s a family emergency."
I closed my laptop. "Send them to the secondary briefing room outside the secure zone, Specialist. And have base security on standby."
When I walked into the room, I found my parents and Miranda sitting around the table. Miranda looked disheveled, her designer purse clutched tightly, while my mother looked ready to faint from sheer indignation.
"Finally!" my mother snapped, standing up. "Emily, end this childish charade right now. We had to drive here in Miranda's clunker because the dealership repossessed your father's luxury sedan this morning!"
"It wasn't his sedan. It was a leased vehicle under my corporate account," I corrected calmly, remaining standing. "And since I closed the account, the vehicle was reclaimed."
"You are a monster!" Miranda shrieked, slamming her hand on the table. "Ethan and Chloe had to ride the public bus today! Do you know how humiliating that is? All because you're throwing a tantrum over Lily getting a little wet!"
"Miranda," I said, my voice dropping an octave, carrying the full authority of my rank. "You are thirty-four years old. You have never held a job for more than three months. You live off our parents, who in turn lived off me. Yesterday, you sat in a warm car that my sweat paid for, and you watched my six-year-old child stand in a storm. You didn't even have the decency to let her sit on your lap."
"She's just a kid, she can walk!" Miranda yelled.
"Then your kids can walk, too," I fired back. "Because as of today, you are completely cut off. And as for Mom and Dad's house... David and I are putting it on the market. You have until the end of the month to vacate the premises."
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My mother choked on her breath, clutching her chest. "You... you're evicting us?!"
"I'm reclaiming my asset," I corrected. "The meeting is over."