One by one, others began speaking.

Not all.

That would have been too easy.

But enough.

A cadet from engineering admitted Pike made junior officers redo inspections in front of spectators just to prove he could. Another said hallway assignments were manipulated to isolate certain people. A third, red-faced with shame, admitted he laughed when Pike dropped the brush because “that’s what everyone does when he starts.”

Reed listened without interruption.

So did I.

This was the real inheritance of bad leadership—not one bully, but the little republic of silence that grows around him. The institution begins to call it resilience. Then standards. Then tradition. By the time someone senior decides to look properly, humiliation has already become grammar.

Nolan’s face had gone red under the fluorescent lights.

Not the theatrical red of embarrassment.