My parents must have copied it when they watched the house during my last deployment transition.

It was a calculated move.

The external drive she took held years of my work.

It contained sensitive data, federal witness contacts, and active DoD personnel lists.

If Victoria gave those files to my father, he would have everything he needed to bypass the red flags I had set up on his accounts.

I leaned my head back against the stiff hospital pillow.

The air in the room smelled of antiseptic and old floor wax.

The quiet hum of the infant bassinet nearby reminded me of what was at stake.

My baby boy was sleeping in the nursery down the hall under specialized care.

I had to protect him, and I had to protect my husband Ethan’s benefits.

My mind raced back to the original anomaly that had started my suspicion.

The name on the forged benefit claims wasn’t just a random identity.

It was Margaret Elaine Mitchell.

My grandmother.

According to my family, she had passed away over a decade ago.

But the active federal files I had glided past weeks ago suggested otherwise.