Chapter 48 - The Stripping of Stars
With the Whitaker men secured, Vance turned his attention back to Vice Admiral Ross. The three-star officer stood alone now; his security detail, realizing the tide had completely turned, slowly lowered their weapons and stepped back toward the perimeter.
"Julian has already confessed, Ross," I said, pointing toward his nephew, who was being led away by Marine guards. "He gave up the bank accounts in the Cayman Islands. He gave up the shell companies tied to Dayton. And he gave up the names of every officer you paid off to suppress my advancement records."
Ross’s eyes narrowed into slits of venomous hatred. "You think you've won, Commander? You think putting me in handcuffs wipes away the past? You are nothing but an upstart who got lucky! Your entire family is scum, and no uniform will ever wash that Dayton dirt off your skin!"
Vance stepped up until he was inches from Ross’s face. The Rear Admiral’s presence was overpowering, an immovable mountain of unyielding military honor.
"Her uniform is cleaner than yours has been in thirty years, Ross," Vance said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. "And unlike you, Eleanor Whitaker earned every single inch of gold on her sleeves."
Vance reached out, gripped the three-star insignia on Ross's left collar, and ripped it free with a sharp tug of tearing fabric. He repeated the motion on the right collar, dropping the metal stars onto the wet concrete of the pier, crushing them beneath the heel of his boot.
"Vice Admiral Sterling Ross, by order of the Secretary of the Navy and the Joint Chiefs of Staff, you are hereby relieved of duty, stripped of your rank, and placed under immediate military arrest."
Four Marine guards moved in swiftly, clamping heavy iron restraints around Ross's wrists. The proud, untouchable flag officer was forced down into the mud, his pristine dress uniform stained with harbor grease as he was dragged toward the awaiting paddy wagon.
The pier fell into an extraordinary silence, broken only by the gentle lap of waves against the hull of the *Farragut*. The threat was broken. The web that had strangled my career from its inception had been torn apart in broad daylight.
Vance turned back to me, offering a crisp, solemn salute.
I snapped my hand to the brim of my cover, returning the salute with unwavering precision.
May you like
"Outstanding work, Commander," Vance said, a faint, proud smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Your ship held the line. Now, it's time to close the book on Ohio."
***
