“Goodbye, Father.”

I hung up.

I turned the phone completely off and placed it in my bag.

“Miller,” I said.

“Ma’am?”

“Get me the readiness reports for the Sixth Fleet surface assets.”

“Right away, Admiral.”

He tapped his keyboard, and a series of spreadsheets appeared on my monitor.

I spent the next three hours reviewing the operational capabilities of the destroyers and cruisers under my new command.

The work was familiar and clean.

There were no hidden agendas in the numbers.

There were no insults disguised as jokes.

The sun began to set, casting long orange and purple shadows across the cloud deck outside.

The flight attendant cleared my empty cup.

“We will be landing at Lajes Field in two hours for refueling, Admiral,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said.

I leaned back and let my eyes rest.

For the first time in days, the tension in my shoulders began to fade.

The world of my family—the dinner parties, the quiet snide remarks, the constant need for approval—felt very small.

It was shrinking behind me at five hundred miles per hour.

I thought of Caroline.