Hot Soup Outside the Gate

Chapter One: Hot Soup Outside the Gate

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You and your son can’t go in. The Colonel is inside talking to his childhood friend.”

Claire Reynolds felt the scalding heat at the entrance to the Fort Bragg base penetrate into her skin, as if someone had poured boiling water directly on her.

She stood outside the main entrance of the military base, holding her four-year-old son Liam in one hand and holding a heavy light blue thermos bucket in the other. It contained chicken soup she’d made before dawn—added with carrots, fresh herbs, and the kind of care that wanted to put all her heart into it.

Her husband, Army Col. Mark Collins, complained to her on the phone that his stomach had been hurting for several days.

“I can barely eat anything,” he said by phone last night, his voice sounding weak and tired.

Claire was convinced. So she carefully prepared the soup just as her mother used to do. A simmering clear soup. Fresh parsley. I deliberately put in a few extra carrots for Liam to eat next to the cutting board.

Then, she put her son into a clean blue shirt, stuffed wet wipes and snacks, and drove over in the scorching heat of North Carolina, just to bring some comfort to the man who had been sleeping at the base all week.

Liam looked at the young soldier standing guard.

“Daddy doesn’t want to see us?”

Claire squeezed her son’s hand.

“Of course I do, honey. It’s got to be a misunderstanding.”

She turned to face the soldier again. The other person looked to be twenty years old at most. Due to the hot weather, his face was sunburned, his lips were chapped, and there was a sense of guilt in his eyes that he was forced to say cruel words.

“I’m Claire Raines Collins,” she said evenly, “the wife of Colonel Mark Collins. I’ve come to bring him some food.”

The soldier swallowed hard.

“Ma’am, we have received direct orders. No one is allowed in today.”

“Anyone?” Claire asked softly, “Or...just me?”

The young man lowered his head silently.

“Miss Natalie Brooks is inside. The Colonel requests complete privacy.”

The air around Claire seemed to freeze for an instant. Natalie Brooks. She knew the name all too well.

She’d heard it in family jokes, in Mark’s mother’s meaningful hints, in old stories that Mark always dismissively described as “harmless.”

Natalie is the daughter of a family of friends. She and Mark grew up together on military bases large and small, birthday parties, school fairs, and summer trips.

Mark’s mother once called her “the wife he should have chosen.”

Claire knelt down in front of Liam and gently placed her hands on her son’s ears.

“Baby, look over there and help mommy count how many red trucks there are, okay?”

Liam nodded. Then Claire raised her eyes and looked directly at the soldier.

“Who gave the order?”

“Captain Kyle Parker, the colonel’s adjutant.”

Claire slowly stood up straight. She took out her cell phone from her purse and dialed the number.

“Andrew,” she said when the call came through.

Her brother gave a quiet chuckle.

“What’s the matter, little princess?”

“I was standing at the entrance to the military base. Mark ordered me not to go in because Natalie Brooks was inside with him.”

There was silence on across the connection. Andrew Raines was more than just her brother. He is a division commander major general. He had served in the army for twenty-two years, and almost no one in the Ministry of Defense dared to deliberately ignore him.

“Is Liam with you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

His voice turned cold.

“What do you want me to do?”

Claire looked at the door that she had walked through with pride for four years, once thinking that this place belonged to her home as much as her husband.

“I want a thorough sweep inside. No privileges. No warnings. No mercy.”

“Got it.”

Claire hung up the phone. Then, she placed the thermos bucket on the ground and kicked it so hard that even the lid flew out. The boiling soup was splashed on the hot asphalt road.

The noodles were scattered among the dirt and engine oil. Liam’s eyes widened.

“Mom, that’s soup for dad.”

Claire pulled him into her arms.

“If a stray dog doesn’t know how to cherish it, no matter how much love I put into making soup, I will never feed it.”

Then, she walked back to her SUV without looking back. She didn’t see the young soldier wipe his eyes. She didn’t see him glance up at the security camera above the door. She didn’t see him take a deep breath, as if he had a premonition that he would later be called to testify.

That night, as Liam slept with the stuffed dinosaur in his arms, Claire opened the bottom drawer of the study. There, sat a fireproof folder containing documents her father had left for her before his death.

Fifteen percent of Raines Group. Veto power on every major contract. There is also a letter written by her father: Claire, never confuse love with privilege. People who truly love you will protect what belongs to you; while people who take advantage of you will only ask you to give it up.

She called her brother, James, who was several years older than her and the president of the company.

“I need you to re-examine everything the Collins family has received from us.”

“I’m already reviewing it vigorously,” James said.

Claire was stunned.

“What do you mean, 'It’s already being reviewed vigorously'?”

A long silence.

Then James said: “Andrew hit the Pentagon’s security wires. And, Claire... you’re probably not going to like what’s coming next.”

A few minutes later, the document arrived in her inbox. Twelve construction contracts. Forty-three suppliers were activated as a result of Raines Group recommendations. Bank guarantee worth $1.6 billion. A $900 million capital injection pulled Mark’s father’s company back from the brink.

Claire felt nausea rising in her throat. The Collins family has been stepping on Raines' financial foundation for years. But Mark, for another woman, locked her and their son out. Just when she was about to close the computer, Mark sent a text message:

Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill. Natalie is here to talk business. We’ll talk later. Claire stared at the screen. Then, she replied: Of course. I wish you happy work. She turned off her phone.

Immediately afterwards, James called again. This time, his voice changed. Low. Angry.

“Claire, there’s one more thing.”

“What’s the matter?”

“A life insurance policy.”

Her fingers paused on the keyboard.

“Who’s protecting it?”

“You.”

The air in the room seemed to be sucked out. James went on to say:

“Thirty-eight million dollars. Issued six weeks ago. Beneficiary: Mark Collins. Joint beneficiary: Collins Family Holdings.”

Claire looked down the hallway toward Liam’s bedroom. My son’s night light shines softly under the door.

“I never signed it.”

“I know,” James said, “because the signature on the consent form was forged.”