My family would blame me for destroying Caroline’s happiness.

They would never believe that Nathan was a fraud.

They would assume I had acted out of malice, out of the bitterness they always attributed to me.

I stood up from my chair and walked to the window.

The lights of the Navy Yard flickered in the dark waters of the Anacostia River.

A cold wind was blowing outside, rattling the double-paned glass of my office.

I thought of my father’s face, the way his mouth tightened whenever I tried to talk about my work.

“Administrative staff,” he had called me at Thanksgiving.

“The bureaucracy that keeps the real soldiers from doing their jobs.”

He had raised his glass to Nathan that night, toasted him as the pride of the family.

Nathan had smiled, accepting the praise with an easy, practiced humility.

I had looked down at my plate, saying nothing.

I had known then that Nathan was ambitious, but I had not known he was dangerous.

Now I had the proof.

I walked back to my desk.