Filed to story: The Lie of a Hero's Rescue Book PDF Free
The day I saw Jared Stanley’s interview, I filed for divorce and moved out of the perfectly maintained home I’d shared with him for three years.
In that interview, Jared said his biggest regret in life was that, in a life-or-death situation, he instinctively protected what he called his most “precious national asset.”
The “asset” he protected wasn’t me, his wife.
It was his “fragile” colleague, sallee brooks.
Two days later, at the global press conference for the G20 summit.
The same renowned war correspondent asked me the same question.
“Ms.Quinn, as a top-tier simultaneous interpreter, what would you say is the professional principle you are most proud of?” llooked directly at Jared sitting in the front row.
“True professionalism is knowing that my husband risked his life to protect his mistress, and still being able to calmly, as the lead interpreter, accurately convey the commands that would ultimately save him.”
“Kathy, are you seeing this?” My best friend Joyce Clarke’s voice came through the phone speaker, tight with anger.
I was packing a suitcase, my phone on speaker.
On the TV, Jared sat in the National Broadcaster studio, wearing that deep blue suit l’d ironed countless times.
The host looked at him with admiration.
“Minister Stanley, the situation was so dangerous.
Why did you rush to protect Bailee?” Jared gazed earnestly into the camera.
“On the diplomatic front line, every colleague is a precious national asset.
Protecting them is my instinct.”
The live chat exploded.
“A true hero injured for the country!” “Jared is the kind of man to marry!” “This is what a diplomat’s responsibility looks like!” I let out a cold laugh, shoving the last shirt into the suitcase.
“Kathy, are you okay?” Joyce’s voice trembled.
“I’m fine.”
I turned off the TV, and the room went silent.
Three years of marriage, summed up by his single word, “instinct.”
The “national asset” he protected wasn’t me, the lead interpreter who held my own against seasoned diplomats at the negotiation table.
It was Bailee, the one who “fainted” when the gunshots started.
I opened a drawer and took out an encrypted flash drive.
On it was the complete audio recording from the Mayland hostage crisis.
Including the entire process of Jared violating operational discipline, almost getting everyone killed for his “heroic rescue.”
My phone rang.
Jared’s name flashed on the screen.
I declined the call.
It rang again.
I hung up again.
When it rang a third time, I answered.
“Kathy, where are you?” He sounded impatient.
“Moving out.”
“Moving out? What nonsense is this? Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it when we meet.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
I slid the divorce papers into my bag.
“I just wanted to tell you l’ve filed for divorce.”
Dead silence on the other end.
It took Jared ten seconds to speak.
“Have you lost your mind?” “No.”
I dragged my suitcase toward the door.
“Perfectly sane,” “Kathy! Do you even know what time it is? The ©20 Summit is about to start.
What kind of tantrum are you throwing?” A tantrum? I stopped.
“Jared, during the Mayland crisis, I worked non-stop for 72 hours, translating emergency consultations for thirteen countries.”
“I know you worked haar..
“You know nothing,” I cut him off.
“Do you have any idea what it felt like? Listening in my headset as Captain Walsh gave the order to rescue you?” “Kathy..
“Do you know my hand was shaking when I translated ‘Evacuate immediately, target injured’ into Arabish?” Jared was silent.
“Now the whole internet is praising you as a hero,” I said, pushing open the door.
The hallway light was harsh.
“So let me ask you, hero.
When you were saving the damsel, did you even think about your wife?” “Forget it.”
I pressed the elevator button.
“No need to answer.
I already know.”
The moment I hung up, it felt like the whole world went quiet.
The elevator doors opened.
I wheeled my suitcase inside.
My reflection in the mirror looked calm, my eyes determined.
At 30, 1, Kathy Quinn, was finally going to live for myself.
I had just gotten out of the shower in my hotel room when my phone started blowing up.
The first call was from Jared’s assistant, Zayn Larson.
“Mrs.Stanley, could you please come home? Mr.Stanley isn’t fully recovered from his injury, and you acting like this..”
“Zayn.”
I cut him off.
“From now on, call me Kathy, or Ms.Quinn.
‘Mrs.Stanley’ isn’t a title I deserve.”
I hung up.
It rang again immediately.
This time, it was an encrypted line.
I answered, and Jared’s voice came through, angrier than before.
“Kathy, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Divorcing you.”
I answered as I dried my hair.
“I thought I made myself pretty clear.”
“Do you have any idea how many reporters are outside right now? What you’re doing will ruin my career!” Would I ruin his career? I stopped drying my hair.
“Jared, how did you get that gunshot wound in your leg?” “I was saving someone..”
“You violated operational discipline and left the safe zone without authorization.”
My voice was flat, like a machine.
“The medical report said if the bullet had been 0.
I inch to the left, you’d be paralyzed from the neck down.”
I could hear his ragged breathing on the other end.
“And,” I continued, “I have the audio.
All of it.
The communications between you and Bailee in the thirty seconds before you left the safe zone.”
A dead silence followed, as if the whole world had stopped spinning.
“Wanna hear it?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, my tone casual, like I was discussing the weather.
“‘Don’t be scared, Bailee, I’m coming for you.”
I won’t let you get hurt.
And my personal favorite-‘Once this is over, I’ll tell Kathy everything.
” “Kathy..”
“What? Ringing a bell now?” Jared’s voice began to tremble.
“Those.. those were just words..
I just acted impulsively..”