I clenched my jaw.
Megan was already spinning this in the press.
“No comment,” I said, walking past her.
She scribbled anyway, probably thrilled to have been brushed off. By evening, the article was online.
Family rift over Whitmore cabin. Sister says soldier unfairly controls assets.
The comment section was full of strangers debating my character like they knew me. Some praised my service. Others sided with Megan, parroting her lines about fairness.
I shut the laptop hard and gripped the edge of the table. Jack stopped by again, dropping off groceries he claimed he had too much of. He noticed my clenched fists.
“What’s she done now?”
“Fed lies to the press.”
He scratched his beard.
“Let her talk. You’ve got proof. She’s got noise. Truth takes longer, but it sticks harder.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Easier said than done.”
“Everything worth doing is,” he said.
Later that night, my phone buzzed with another message, this time from Mom.
