“He said you didn’t want us at your promotion ceremony because we weren’t military enough.”

“I invited you three times, Mother,” I said. “The RSVP emails were deleted from your account.”

“And they were deleted from an IP address that matches Andrew’s phone.”

My mother sank into one of the leather chairs, her face completely white.

She looked at Claire, her eyes filled with a sudden, terrible realization.

“Claire,” my mother whispered. “Did you know about this?”

Claire took a step back, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

“He did it for us, Mom,” she said, her voice cracking.

“He did it so we could stay here, so Andrew could get the garrison command.”

“We deserved this life. She didn’t.”

My father looked up from the papers, his face older and more tired than I had ever seen it.

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy with years of wasted anger and false blame.

Just then, the red light on the desk phone near the podium began to flash violently.

The sharp, high-pitched ring cut through the room like a siren.