My mind raced, putting together the timeline of the past two weeks.

Daniel had been asking strange questions about my schedule at the base.

He had volunteered to clean my home office, a chore he had never touched in our three years of marriage.

He must have watched me type the passcode into the secure login screen from the doorway.

This wasn’t just a sudden marital dispute.

It was a calculated, coordinated strike.

“You want Emma,” I whispered, the realization sending a cold chill down my spine.

“Of course I want my daughter,” he said, though his voice lacked any real warmth.

“But more importantly, my mother wants her granddaughter raised in a proper home.”

“Patricia,” I said, the name tasting like ash in my mouth.

“She’s funding this, isn’t she? The lawyers, the private investigators, the fake test.”

“She’s protecting her family,” Daniel said.

“By framing me?” I asked.

“By exposing the truth,” he countered.

If Daniel had my military laptop, he had access to my official emails.

He had access to my travel logs, my personnel files, and my secure communications.