My Uniform My Shroud

After the international operation I commanded went sidewaysa complete wipeoutthe commander's wife was the one who personally saw me delivered to the court-martial.
Stripped of my rank and uniform, I quietly finalized my discharge papers and petitioned for a post in a remote border town. Thats how I became a no-name mortician.
I saw Sienna Knight again ten years later, in a documentary interview.
The host shoved a microphone in my face: "Mr. Owen, Commander Knight hasn't remarried in a decade. Everyone's waiting for that storybook endingthe reconciliation!"
As he spoke, Sienna herself walked in.
She wore her dress blues, impeccably tailored, commanding the room the moment she crossed the threshold. Ten years hadnt faded Sienna's fierce composure. If anything, the youthful sharpness was replaced by a more formidable, measured authority.
She watched me for a long time, and I could feel the silent weight of unsaid words passing between us.
Finally, she offered a gentle greeting:
"Owen. It's been a long time."
"Yeah. A long time."
I gave a flat reply, my face betraying none of the internal tremors that a reunion like this should have caused.
I remembered how the investigation lasted six months, concluding I had sold out my entire elite unit for five million dollars. My name was mud. My parents immediately disowned me. The families of my fallen teammates stood in court, their hatred a palpable, living thing, wishing I would just drop dead.
But no one knew the truth: that the person who orchestrated the whole thingthe betrayal, the framing, the sacrificing of everything I knewwas the same "devoted" Commander Sienna Knight. All to cover for her lover-boy, Vaughn, who was the actual leak, then sealed the whole mess by eliminating the teammate who knew the truth, making me the scapegoat.
1
The mortuary's frosted glass doors were tightly shut. Outside, the reporters were a frenzy of noise, and I could hear them clamoring on Siennas behalf.
Sienna, however, looked completely unfazed.
Hearing the rising volume, George, the old director, nervously stumbled out of the back. He gave Sienna a clumsy, half-salute.
"Commander Knight... With all due respect, ma'am, this is a house of the departed. We can't handle this kind of commotion."
"If you need Owen, I can get him, but could you maybe ask these journalists to wait outside?"
He yelled toward the embalming room. "Owen, forget the cleanup. Someone's here for you."
"No, George. Don't force him."
Even after all this time, hearing her voice was enough to shatter my fragile sense of peace. I knew I couldn't hide. She wouldn't leave until she got what she came for.
I let out a long, silent sigh and walked out.
The reporters surged forward, the questions a brutal, rapid-fire assault.
"How does it feel to fall from a decorated Special Forces Captain to a mortician?"
"Commander Knight has remained unmarried, supposedly waiting for your reconciliationdo you still hold a grudge for her testifying against you?"
"We heard your former trainee, Vaughn, has openly pined for Commander Knight for eight years. What is your take on that?"
My gaze skipped past them, locking briefly with Sienna, who stood watching the scene with cool detachment. My body felt instantly rigid. The questions were like shards of glass, but my mouth was too dry to form a single defense.
When they didn't get the answer they wanted, the reporters grew more aggressive, nearly shoving me to the cold concrete floor.
Thats when Sienna pushed through the crowd and stepped in front of me.
"Gentlemen," she said, her voice low but carrying the non-negotiable weight of her rank. "This is between Owen and me. It is also a funeral home. Respect the departed and their work. Disperse."
The journalists grumbled and backed off. In the wind-whipped snow, only a few of us remained.
I felt the tension drain from my shoulders and was about to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of the embalming room.
"Owen..." Sienna began.
I forced the stiffness out of my shoulders, meeting her eyes.
"Is there something else, Commander Knight?"
Hearing my formal address, she flinched slightly. Slowly, she asked, "After all these years... are you... doing well?"
The question, coming from her, was an absurdity so profound it was almost comical.
She closed the gap between us, reaching out, presumably to brush snow from my shoulder.
I recoiled. The instinctive physical flinch threw me off balance, and I didn't see the small wicker basket of candles and incense by my feet.
CRASH
The basket tumbled to the ground, scattering wax and sticks of incense. I landed hard, palms scraping the cold cement. A splash of melted wax left a stinging red patch on my skin.
She rushed forward, her expression filled with concern. "Are you okay? Here, let me"
I scrambled back, planting my hands on the cold concrete to steady myself, not wanting to be anywhere near her touch. My fingertips were dusted with ash.
"I'm fine..." I quickly managed, ignoring the look of shock on George's face. "Commander Knight, if there's nothing else, I have a cleanup to get back to."
Sienna's eyes were wounded. She reached out again. "Owen, do we really have to be like this? You don't know what I've been through these years..."
Her words were cut short by a high, childish voice.
"Mommy! Daddy and I missed you so much!"
An eight-year-old boy rushed forward and threw himself into Sienna's arms.
Vaughn walked up, escorting my parents, Patricia and Robert. He squeezed Sienna's hand and spoke with a mock-chiding tone.
"Sienna, why didn't you tell me you were coming to see Master? Mom and Dad were so worried when they heard you came to this... dreary place alone."
Then he smiled at me, a sharp, condescending glint in his eyes that spoke of his complete, sickening victory. He glanced pointedly at my work uniform.
"Hope you don't mind, Master. The kid misses his mom. And the little one shes carrying... well, he's probably been missing his dad, too."
My eyes involuntarily dropped to Sienna's flat stomach.
The reporters' gossip about Sienna waiting for me, Vaughns open pining, and now thisthe facts were a brutal, overwhelming mockery.
I recalled how Vaughn had been injured on duty and sent to a recovery retreat for a year before my court-martial. Conveniently, Sienna had been stationed abroad that same year. They must have started their sick little game back then, leaving me clueless, a blind man walking toward the gallows.
Before I could speak, my mother, Patricia, launched into a furious tirade.
"Owen, you have the audacity to be alive! You've ruined the Knight name. You've soiled the family's honor!"
"Three years ago, your father had a major heart attack. If Vaughn hadn't been visiting and called the paramedics, he'd be in the ground right now! How dare you stand here, a disgrace, looking him in the eye!"
I looked at their graying hair and tired faces. Years of failing to be the son they needed twisted a painful knot in my chest. But seeing them defend Vaughn and Sienna like this was a cold, sharp stab.
If they knew that the people they were praisingVaughn and Siennawere the ones who had destroyed an entire elite unit and then framed their son, what would they feel?
My father's gaze was ice-cold, filled with disgust. "Sienna, a traitorous disgrace like him isn't worth your worry. He soiled the family's honor. If it had been me, I would have put a bullet in my own head years ago!"
My mother chimed in, stepping deliberately further away from me, her voice filled only with disappointment and contempt. "We consider Vaughn our son. You're still our daughter-in-law, Sienna. We don't have a son anymore."
George watched my parents' bitter attack, then glanced at my calloused hands. He sighed, the gesture heavy with complex emotions, and silently knelt to help me pick up the scattered candles.
I had nothing left to say. The slight trembling in my hands was not fear, but the deep-seated chill of total despair.
Sienna watched my reaction, then offered a low, forced explanation.
"They've been through a lot, Owen. They've been ostracized for years. Don't blame them."
She soothed my parents with soft words. As they turned to leave, she turned back to me.
"What happened back then, I owe you. My number hasn't changed. Call me if you need anything."
I gave a mechanical nod, saying nothing.
The last thing I wanted was to contact her. I just wanted them all to disappear.
After they left, George put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't take it to heart, son. You've got to keep living." He didn't ask any questions, but I knew something fundamental had broken.
Sure enough, the next morning, George called me into his office.
"Owen, it's not that I want to run you off," he said, rubbing his hands together, his eyes red-rimmed and full of genuine distress. "After yesterday's circus, too many families have called. They say they don't want the traitor's hands touching their loved ones. They say the departed won't find rest."
I looked down at the complaint formsRefusal of Owen Knight's Servicesthe words were ice in my gut. My only sanctuary, the quiet, solitary work Id used to hide from the world, was gone.
"I understand, George." The calmness in my own voice surprised me. "I'll pack up and leave today. I won't cause you any more trouble."
George tried to protest, but I shook my head. I couldn't let my reputation destroy the business he had spent his life building.
As I packed, a profound emptiness settled over me. This room had been my only refuge since leaving the brig, and now it was lost.
Three days later, I was still searching for work. In this small, border town, everyone knew who the "traitor" was. No one would hire me.
That's when Sienna called.
"Owen, I've secured you a position as a Tactical Instructor at the Special Operations Academy. My transport will be there for you in three days."
"Commander Knight!" I cut her off, my voice sharp. "I can't afford your 'kindness.' Just leave me alone."
"Leave you alone?" Sienna's voice was flat but carried an unyielding authority. "I'm trying to help you, Owen. I was trying to save you from yourself."
"I remember the pride of the Special Forces Captain you were. If not for..." She paused, clearly avoiding the full truth, then continued, "I know you hate me, but you can't just throw your life away. If you don't want to be an instructor, you can be a Tactical Consultant for Vaughn. He just got promoted to Captain of his own unit. You were his mentor; it's the perfect fit."
I clenched my jaw, fighting the nausea her suggestion brought on. "I appreciate the offer, but I just want a quiet life."
She didn't argue. She simply informed me.
"I know you're still bitter about the past. But now is not the time for you to be so stubborn. You will understand my decision later."
I almost laughed, a dry, bitter sound. "Your decision? Is that to keep me close, so I can continue to be a pawn in your cover-up? To continue to be Vaughn's stepping stone?"
"Owen!" Her voice cracked like a whip, the full military authority back in her tone. "I warn youwatch your words."
"You will take this consultancy. You have no choice."
"Unless... you want your parents to be run out of the Military Retirement Community. You know how quickly those things can be arranged."
My body went cold. She always knew my weakness.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "313691" to read the entire book.