The tabloid reporter, a man named Marcus Vance (no relation to my family, just a coincidence of a slimy industry), thought he had struck gold.

He had generated millions of clicks in forty-eight hours, and Caroline had received her ten thousand dollars.

They thought they were untouchable because they hid behind the veil of civilian gossip.

They were catastrophically wrong.

Three days later, Caroline was working her shift at the cosmetics counter, looking smugly at her phone, reading the hateful comments strangers were leaving on my photos online.

Suddenly, the glass doors of the department store swung open.

Two men in dark suits, accompanied by a uniformed local police officer, walked directly toward her counter.

Caroline’s smug smile vanished.

"Caroline Vance?" one of the men asked.

"Yes?" she stammered, stepping back.

"You are being served," the man said, slapping a massive stack of legal documents onto the glass counter right in front of her.

"What is this?" Caroline asked, her voice trembling as customers stopped to stare.

"It is a civil lawsuit for defamation, libel, and intentional infliction of emotional distress, filed by Rear Admiral Evelyn Hart," the lawyer stated loudly. "Furthermore, the Department of Defense is officially investigating you for conspiring to publish false information regarding a classified federal investigation into Arthur Vance."

Caroline turned completely white.

"I didn't publish it! The reporter did!" she cried frantically.

"The reporter has already flipped," the second lawyer smiled coldly.

It was true. The moment the Pentagon’s legal team had threatened the tabloid publisher with a multi-million dollar lawsuit and an FBI probe into their sources, the publisher panicked. They fired the reporter, issued a massive public retraction, and handed over all the audio recordings of Caroline selling the fake story.

"You are being sued for five million dollars, Ms. Vance. Have your attorney contact our office. Have a nice day."

The lawyers turned and walked out, leaving Caroline standing in absolute, undeniable ruin.

She had tried to use a ten-thousand-dollar payday to destroy a woman backed by the United States government.

Now, her wages would be garnished for the rest of her natural life to pay the legal fees. Her mother would be evicted from their apartment, and Caroline would be completely destitute.

I did not feel sorry for her. I did not feel pity.

I sat in my office in Washington, reading the email confirmation that the papers had been served.

I deleted the email, closed my laptop, and finally closed the book on my biological family forever.