I froze.

How did he get this number?

I looked back at the screen.

The system chimed, indicating a new document had been uploaded to Nathan’s file.

It was an addendum, marked urgent.

I clicked to open it.

The document was a scanned PDF of a letter on heavy, cream-colored stationery.

At the top, the embossed crest of the Hart family home glinted slightly in the low resolution of the scan.

It was a personal reference for Nathan, written in my father’s precise, sweeping handwriting.

He had uploaded it directly to the Navy’s public liaison portal, bypassing standard military channels.

Before I could read the first line, my desk phone rang.

The red light on the console blinked, indicating an external line.

I picked up the receiver and pressed the button.

“Evelyn,” my father said.

His voice was loud, filling the quiet space of my office with its familiar, commanding resonance.

“I am looking at the screen now, Father,” I said.

“Then you see the letter,” he said. “Nathan needs that transfer approved tonight. Caroline is already planning the move to San Diego.”