Lieutenant General Dominic “Dom” De Luca stood in his living room, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over the cozy space. His uniform was impeccable, a testament to his pride and discipline, and his olive-toned skin and dark, wavy hair highlighted his Italian heritage. Today marked another deployment, a routine he was familiar with, yet it never got any easier.

He picked up his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder, glancing around the room at the family photos that adorned the walls. The scent of fresh coffee, a nod to his Italian roots, filled the air, offering a small comfort.

His four-year-old daughter, Mia, toddled into the room, clutching his camouflage cap in her tiny hands. Her curly hair bounced with each step, and her big, expressive eyes—so much like his—sparkled with mischief. She didn’t say a word but held up the cap proudly.

“You keep an eye on your mama for me, okay?”

he joked, winking at her as he put his cap onto her tiny head, covering her eyes as she smiled widely and saluted giggling.