My father was using his political influence to stall Nathan’s career, likely to keep him dependent on the family’s goodwill.

Or perhaps to force Nathan to beg for my father’s help, cementing the family’s control over him.

And now, Nathan was trying to bypass the hold by applying directly to my classified program.

He thought he was escaping into the anonymous bureaucracy of the Pentagon.

He had no idea he was running straight to the sister-in-law his fiancé ridiculed at dinner.

I rubbed my temples.

If I signed the transfer, I would pull Nathan out of my father’s reach.

If I denied it, Nathan’s career as a Navy SEAL was effectively over.

He would be reassigned to a desk job in Norfolk, far from the operational commands he trained for.

My desk phone buzzed.

It was the secure line, but the digital display showed an external, unlisted civilian number.

Only a few people had this direct bypass code.

I picked up the receiver.

“Admiral Hart,” I said.

The voice on the other end was cold, sharp, and instantly recognizable.

“Evelyn,” my father said.