The War Hero's Daughter

I ranked 32nd in the entire state on the SATs, but I failed the security clearance. The reason? Someone reported that an immediate family member of mine had a serious criminal record. My dad rushed to check the files that night, only to be told, "The information has been verified and cannot be changed." My mom took my application file to appeal, but was turned away at the door. Then one phone call from the admissions office, and my early admission application was voided—just like that. In the end, I stayed in front of the school gate for three days and three nights, until it finally caught national attention. A school administrator walked over with a report and told me that even if it was a close relative with a criminal record, there was nothing they could do. I stood up shakily and pulled out a certificate of military honors and an orphan adoption certificate. "But I'm the orphan of a fallen hero!" Chapter 1 "Emily Wertheimer, I'm sorry to inform you that you have not passed the security clearance." The voice on the other end of the line was cold and emotionless. "What's the reason?" I barely managed to squeeze the words out. "Your immediate family member has a major international criminal record. According to relevant regulations, this does not meet the standards for national defense majors." "Which immediate family member?" "Your father. For specific details, we suggest you check with your local DOJ. We can only give you the final result here." "Wait—" Click. The line went dead. I frantically opened my phone, but before I could even figure out who to call, a message popped up in our class group chat. Tyler Brooks: [@All Huge news, guys—you know our class's top student? Her security clearance got denied. She's finished.] Tyler Brooks: [The spawn of a murderer actually dared to apply to the National Defense Academy? What a ballsy move!] The group chat exploded instantly. [Tyler, are you insane?] [Stop spreading rumors, will you?] [Holy crap, where'd you even hear this?] Tyler replied with a laughing emoji, then sent another message. [Rumors? Then tell her to come out and deny it.] I stared at the chat, tears falling uncontrollably onto my screen. "Emily?" Dad walked up to me carrying a plate of food, a warm smile still on his face. "What are you doing standing here? Everyone's waiting for you to eat!" "Dad…" I cut him off. "My security clearance got denied." Dad froze on the spot. His hand slipped, and the bowl crashed to the floor with a loud clatter—the sound jolting him back to reality. "What did you say? No way—your mom and I have clean records!" "It's not you two." "Then who?" "My biological father. They said he has an international criminal record." Mom heard the commotion and rushed out of the kitchen. "Emily, don't panic—this has to be a mistake. Your real dad was a war hero. How could he have a criminal record?" "I don't think it's right either." Dad grabbed me by the shoulders, his grip firm and strong. "I'm heading to the state capital tomorrow to get this sorted. An innocent person doesn't just get slandered like this." Mom crouched down and pulled me into a hug. I could feel her breathing grow heavier, her body trembling just slightly. The neighbors in the yard exchanged awkward glances. That dinner ended in a heavy, suffocating silence. That night, I locked my bedroom door. The National Defense Academy—its advanced engineering program—was a dream I'd held since I was little. Because that was the uniform my biological father wore. I curled up under the covers and cried alone. Then my phone rang. "Hello, Emily Wertheimer? I'm a reporter with the local news. Online, there is—" I hung up immediately. I opened the search bar. The trending topic was right at the top: #Top 32 Statewide Rank Fails Security Clearance Due to Family Criminal Record# The comments were filled with vicious attacks. The one at the very top cut the deepest: [How dare the child of a criminal set foot in national defense? For all we know, the whole family are traitors.] I couldn't sleep that entire night. I couldn't accept this outcome—and more than that, I couldn't accept anyone slandering my father. Chapter 2 "Sorry, but this file's information has already been verified and confirmed by a higher-level authority. It cannot be changed." Dad stood at the archive counter, struggling to keep his composure. "Verified what? My adopted daughter's biological father is a war hero! Did you even bother checking the original records?" The clerk barely glanced at him, flipping through a couple of papers without looking up. "Sir, this is what the system shows. I only have query access. You can file an appeal with the Department of Education." "Then tell me—when was this record entered? And by who?" "I don't have the clearance for that." Dad slammed his fist on the counter, startling the people waiting in line behind him. The clerk finally looked up, pushing up his glasses with clear annoyance. "Sir, I'll call the police if you keep this up." I rushed over and pulled Dad back. "Dad, let's go to the Department of Education." Dad looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. This sixty-something-year-old man suddenly looked like a helpless child. "Emily, I promise I'll get to the bottom of this." He hopped on his old motorbike and headed toward the city. I stood at the entrance, watching his figure fade into the distance. Forty minutes later, the call didn't come from Dad—it came from the hospital. "Is this Emily Wartheimer? Your father was hit by a car running a red light at the intersection of Red Star and Main. He's been rushed to the ER." I grabbed a cab to the hospital, shaking uncontrollably, and called Mom several times before she finally picked up. When I got to the hospital and saw Dad covered in blood, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. "Dad!" His hand was mangled, but he was clutching a plastic bag with a death grip. Inside were the appeal documents he'd prepared to submit to the Department of Education. "Emily… the papers didn't get ruined," he said, forcing a smile through the pain. "My legs might be busted, but my head's still working." Mom collapsed to the ground sobbing the moment she saw Dad. It took the nurses a while to help her back to her feet. After they wheeled Dad back into surgery, I grabbed his bag of documents and headed straight to the Department of Education. After waiting in line for two hours, I finally made it to the counter. "Miss, security clearance appeals don't fall under our jurisdiction. You need to go to the Admissions Office." "The Admissions Office sent me here, and you're sending me back. So who actually handles this?" "Calm down, that's just how the process works—" I slapped the documents on the counter. "Just tell me—who am I supposed to talk to?" The clerk glanced at me, then lowered her voice. "Miss, let me be honest with you. Once a security clearance denial gets filed—especially one that was reported by someone—it's nearly impossible to overturn. You might want to consider switching majors." I grabbed the documents and stepped back. At the entrance of the Department of Education, Mom was standing in the rain, holding an umbrella. I didn't know when it had started raining, but she was already completely soaked. "Emily, what did they say?" "They won't help." "Then we'll go to the city government!" "Mom." I took her hand. "You go back to the hospital and stay with Dad. I'll go myself." "No way. I'm coming with you." Once Mom digs her heels in, there's no stopping her. We walked through the rain toward the city government building. Just as we reached the entrance, a black sedan pulled up right in front of us. A middle-aged woman stepped out with two bodyguards. I'd seen her at parent-teacher conferences—she always sat in the seat reserved for Tyler's parents. "Well, well, if it isn't the Werheimers. Heading in to make a scene?" Mom tightened her grip on the umbrella. "Miriam, we're here to file a legitimate appeal. This has nothing to do with you." Miriam Johnson tilted her head and gave a polished, practiced smile. "A legitimate appeal? The daughter of a criminal trying to get into the National Defense Academy—that's a joke at the expense of national security." "My daughter's biological father was a war hero!" "A war hero?" Miriam blocked our path. "You say he's a hero—who's going to believe that?" She stepped closer, almost right in our faces. "I'd advise you to drop this. Save your energy and start reconsidering your options. Some schools just aren't meant for certain people." Mom's hands were shaking with rage. "What business is it of yours? What we do is our own business!" Miriam let out a scoff and brushed past us. But as her bodyguards followed, one of them deliberately shoved Mom—hard. She tumbled down the wet steps, landing in a heap on the soaked pavement. I rushed to help her up. Blood was mixing with the rain puddles beneath her. "What the hell are you doing?!" Miriam had already turned away, closing her umbrella and getting back into the car. The two bodyguards just shrugged. "Whoops, looks like she slipped. Not our fault—we didn't touch her." Mom knelt in the rain, clutching the soaked pile of documents, and finally broke down sobbing. I crouched beside her, gritting my teeth, unable to say a single word. The rain kept pouring harder. It felt like the whole world had turned its back on us. Chapter 3 "Emily Wertheimer, this is a formal notification. Due to your failed security clearance and the flag on your file, all your applications have been voided." The call came from the Admissions Office the next morning. "Can I still apply to other schools?" There was a pause on the other end. "To be honest, your file is currently locked. The security clearance flag follows your record wherever it goes—which means… even if you apply through regular admission, you'll most likely be rejected." Dad propped himself up and grabbed the phone. "Then what's she supposed to do? She can't even retake her tests and reapply?" "That depends on each institution's review standards. We can't make any guarantees." "You're ruining her future!" "Sir, we're just following procedure. If you have concerns, please go through the proper appeal channels." Click… click… click… The line went dead again. The hospital room fell silent for a long time. Dad pounded the bed railing with his fists, over and over. Mom rested her head by his bedside, quietly sobbing. I stood by the window. It felt like everything that happened yesterday was already a lifetime ago. "Emily." Dad's voice was hoarse and raw. "It's all our fault—we couldn't do a thing for you. Do you hate us?" "No." "I can't even protect you…" Over the past few days, this sixty-something-old man had broken down more times than I could count. "Dad, stop." I turned to face him. His legs were suspended in traction, and his hair had turned mostly gray overnight. Mom picked up an apple to peel, but her hands were shaking too much. The apple slipped and rolled across the floor. That afternoon, I went home by myself. I started reaching out to other schools on my list. But their responses were eerily identical. "Hello, Emily. I'm an admissions counselor at Opnette University. Unfortunately, due to the risk flag on your file, we cannot consider your application this year. We recommend resolving your file issue first." I called three or four schools. They all gave me practically the same answer. At nine that night, my deskmate Lily Strand called. "Emily, are you okay? Don't let those messages in the group chat get to you…" "Lily, I'm fine. But I need a favor." "Name it." "Keep an eye on Tyler Brooks and his family. I'm done sitting back and doing nothing." There was a few seconds of silence on her end. "They're behind this?" I stared at the congratulatory banner hanging at our front gate—the one celebrating my test scores. Now it was trampled into the mud. "I heard Tyler got into the National Defense Academy by one spot behind me. You really think that's a coincidence?" Lily's voice dropped to a whisper. "I get it. But Emily, what are you going to do? Is there anyone left who can help you?" A breeze drifted through the window. I looked around our run-down home—a world away from the celebration just two days ago. "There's one more thing I can do." "What?" I pulled a small box from under the cabinet and dusted it off. "I'm going to make the whole country hear my side of the story." Chapter 4 "Emily, are you insane?" Lily stared at me in disbelief as I knelt in front of the school gate. "I'm leaving the livestream to you." I handed her my phone. "But—" "Lily." I took a deep breath. "My dad's in the hospital with two broken legs. My mom's been threatened multiple times because of me. Every single school has shut its doors on me. I have nothing left but myself." Lily took the phone. It was two in the afternoon. The sun was blazing. I knelt at the school gate, with five large red words laid out in front of me: "GIVE ME BACK MY HONOR." At first, only a few dozen people were watching. The comments were sparse. [Who's this?] [The one who ranked 32nd in the state? Didn't she fail her security clearance?] [Wait, is this for real? Even if she does this, it's not gonna help, right?] An hour later, viewership climbed to three thousand. [That's Emily Wertheimer! The one from that trending post!] [Holy crap, what's she trying to do?] A security guard came over to talk to me once. "Miss, you're disrupting the order at the school entrance—" "I'm not going inside. This is public property." The guard called the dean. The dean stood in front of me with a complicated expression. "Emily, why are you doing this? If you have a grievance, you can go through the proper channels—" "I have no other way. Not a single path is open to me. I've tried everything." I looked up at him. "Sir, tell me honestly—do the proper channels actually work?" The dean let out a long sigh. In the end, he said nothing and walked away. The livestream numbers kept climbing, and the comments started flooding in. [Is there a reporter here? Someone needs to expose this!] [This poor girl has been pushed this far? There's no way she's lying, right?] [What if it's all for attention?] By nightfall, my knees were raw and bleeding. Lily tried to bring me food and water. I refused everything. I just stayed there, kneeling—no food, no water, no rest. "Emily, at least go home and sleep—" "No." Night fell. A passing woman left some fruit for me. A delivery rider set a bottle of water beside me. I never turned off the livestream. The numbers kept rising. Before dawn the next day, a group of thugs showed up out of nowhere. They wore masks, bypassed everyone else, and headed straight for me. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Lily immediately realized they were here to cause trouble. She rushed to block them—she hadn't slept all night either. But they shoved her aside without a second thought. "Get the hell out of my way!" Lily lost her balance and hit the ground hard. "Help! Someone help! Please, anyone—they're here to silence her! It's got to be someone behind this!" It was too early—barely anyone was around. The few onlookers averted their eyes. No one wanted to be the first to step in. "You're Emily Wertheimer, right? I'm giving you ten seconds to pack up and get lost. Or else." I ignored him. My eyes stayed fixed on the school gates. "Ten… nine… eight…" The leader counted down. I didn't flinch. "Three… two…! "You're really not leaving, are you?!" Still no response. "Get her!" He punched me square in the face, and I hit the ground. For a moment, everything went black. But I couldn't stay down. I forced myself back up on my knees and kept staring ahead, ignoring them completely. "Beat her until she begs!" The rest of them swarmed in, kicking and punching. I curled up, protecting my head, and didn't utter a single word of mercy. "Are you leaving or not?!" The leader saw I wasn't responding and drove his foot into my face. The livestream viewer count skyrocketed. The chat exploded with fury. [Someone call the police! Where is this?!] [Is there no law anymore? This is assault in public!] [Someone's clearly guilty and doesn't want her streaming! Is anyone near Apex University? Get over there now!] [We're going to find out the truth!] The entire internet was losing it. People started mobilizing. "Stop! Right now!" A student from Apex University with glasses was the first to step forward. Then several more students from Apex University rushed in. The crowd kept growing. With someone taking the lead, more people surged forward. The thugs panicked at the sight and tried to flee. But the crowd had seen enough—they weren't letting them get away. They beat them down and pinned them all to the ground. They tried to help me up, but even though I was covered in bruises and blood was pooling beneath me, I stayed kneeling. I didn't move an inch. Half an hour later, the police arrived. Local and state reporters showed up too. "Ms. Wertheimer, the whole country is watching now. We'll make sure you get justice—please, get up!" "The person I need to see hasn't come yet!" The livestream broke a million viewers. The hashtag hit number one nationwide. At 5 PM, as public pressure grew louder, several cars pulled up at the school gate. The principal and the head of admissions arrived. City officials came too. I turned my head. Miriam stepped out from behind them. "Since Emily insists on making such a scene, I suppose I'll have to cooperate." She opened a folder and pulled out documents. "This is the record pulled directly from the police system. Emily's biological father, Allan Wertheimer, was wanted in 2004 for cross-border smuggling and aggravated assault. Here's the official stamp and official seal." Her smile never wavered as she walked over and reached out to help me up. "Emily, I know you're a good kid. But you can't change what your father did, can you?" I knew this was the moment I'd been waiting for. I pulled out a bloodstained file pouch from inside my jacket. I took out the top two documents and held them up for everyone to see. One was an Orphan Adoption Certificate. The other was a Certificate of Martyr's Family Status.