Miller stood two steps behind me, silent and motionless.

“What is this?” my father asked, gesturing vaguely at my uniform. “What are you wearing?”

“My uniform,” I said.

“The stripes,” he whispered. “That’s… you’re an admiral.”

“Yes,” I said.

He took a breath, his chest expanding under the cashmere coat.

He looked past me at the brick buildings of the Navy Yard, then back at me.

“You never told us,” he said.

“You never asked,” I replied. “Whenever I tried to talk about my work, you told me to find a career with better connections.”

He flinched slightly, his fingers twitching against his coat pockets.

The base police officer reached the Mercedes and tapped on the driver’s side window.

My father ignored the officer entirely.

“Nathan’s assignment,” my father said, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “Caroline called me from the hotel. She was screaming, Evelyn. She said Nathan’s command was revoked.”

“It was,” I said.

“They said it came from the top,” he said. “From the Chief of Naval Operations’ office. They said a flag officer personally signed the order.”

“I signed it,” I said.