In the video, Giselle was backed into the corner by the bullies. They lined up, each taking a turn to slap her while she curled into herself and helplessly sobbed.

One of them shoved the phone in her face for a close-up, mocking, "Someone like her, with no mom or dad who cares, was born for us to mess with."

My hand trembled as I held the phone. I couldn't watch another second of it.

Along with the video came a taunting message from Harold. He wrote, "Enjoying the show, old geezer? If you don't sign the statement, I'll upload this online, and your granddaughter will be a laughingstock."

Then, he sent another image. This time, it was one of a skinned rabbit.

Rabbits were Giselle's favorite animal.

My whole body shook with fury as I replied, "Don't you think this is too much?"

Harold shot back, "So what if I'm crossing the line? What can you do? I've got family in the courthouse. Around here, even murder gets swept under the rug, let alone assault.

"Your granddaughter is the one who's screwed. She'll spend her whole life living under the shadow of being bullied."

When I tried to reply again, I realized he had already blocked me.

…

I reached out to various law firms, but every attorney told me the same thing—they couldn't take the case and wouldn't dare to either.

The Fleming family was exactly as Louis had said. They had powerful connections, with relatives in the courthouse pulling strings for them.

Was justice for Giselle truly out of reach?

…

Giselle's mental state kept getting worse. Night after night, she struggled to fall asleep. Even when she did, nightmares would jolt her awake.

Through tears, she told me that she was too afraid to close her eyes. Every time she did, she relived the day Tricia and her friends tormented her.

It gutted me to hear Giselle say that. I pulled her into my arms, and she wept uncontrollably against me.

"Grandpa, I dreamed about Mom and Dad," she said. "They took me to the amusement park, holding me as we played together. But before long, they got called away for a mission.

"They said the country needed them for a while, and once the job was done, they'd come back home. Grandpa… when will the country give them back to me?

"If Mom and Dad were here, nobody would ever pick on me just because I don't have parents. Why don't bad people ever get punished?"

I stared at Giselle's pale face, completely at a loss for words. Right then, sorrow and helpless rage crashed over me like a tidal wave.

The next day, I walked up to the courthouse with the legal papers I had drafted overnight. At this point, I had no other choice. This lawsuit was the last hope I had left.

But as soon as I stepped inside, I came face-to-face with Harold. He was chatting and laughing with a court official.

His expression darkened the instant he saw me. Without missing a beat, he ordered the security guards at the entrance to stop me. "This old man is crazy! Don't let him through!" he yelled.

The guards immediately pinned me to the ground. No matter how much I resisted, I was powerless against them.

Harold stood over me, smug. Then, he flung the shredded remains of my papers into my face. "I told you, didn't I? The ones in charge of this courthouse are all my relatives.

"This isn't a place where you'll ever find justice. You could sue me all you like, and it still wouldn't matter. If you know what's good for you, you'd sign the statement. Otherwise, don't blame me for what happens next."

Their laughter cut straight into me, sharp and merciless. All I felt was utter humiliation and pain.

I sat alone outside the courthouse, consumed by a despair I had never known before.

Weren't courts meant to stand for fairness and justice? Why had they become a sanctuary for the powerful?

Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision.

All I wanted was justice. Why was it so impossibly hard?

As I bent forward, the medals slipped from my pocket. They clattered against the stone steps before tumbling all the way down.

I gathered them up and blankly stared at the military compound across the street.

Six years ago, the general had told me that Giselle's parents, Moses Tanner and Clara Kirk, were heroes who had fallen in the line of duty. He'd promised their child would be protected and that if trouble ever came, I should seek him out.

He even swore that no soldier's family would ever have to suffer again after their loved ones had given their lives for the country.

With that in mind, I took a deep breath before limping my way toward the military compound.

…

Under the watchful gaze of the guards, I dropped to my knees at the gates. My hands trembled as I raised the two medals high above my head.

"Sir, can you tell me if these are really Medals of Honor? Were my son and daughter-in-law truly recognized as fallen heroes of this nation?" I asked. "If they were, then why is it that no one is willing to step in when their daughter is being bullied?"

The gold medals gleamed under the sunlight, and the red enamel at their centers shone with striking brilliance.

When the guards saw the words "Medal of Honor", their expressions shifted at once. No one knew better than they did what those words meant. And now, I wasn't holding just one, but two.