Not once.
As people began leaving, I gathered my files and prepared to go.
Then the judge spoke again.
“Major Bennett.”
I turned.
He nodded respectfully.
“Your grandmother was obviously very proud of you.”
For a moment, I couldn’t answer.
Because out of everything that happened that day—the money, the victory, the years of being underestimated—that was the only thing that truly mattered.
I smiled.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Then I picked up my briefcase and walked out of the courtroom carrying exactly what my grandmother intended me to have.
Not just $4.7 million.
But proof that she had seen me all along.
