Claire spun around, her face twisted with rage.

“And you loved every second of finding out, didn’t you?” she spat.

“You’ve been waiting for twenty years to put me in my place,” she said.

“You were always the plain one,” Claire added.

“The one who had to wear a uniform because you couldn’t find a husband who could provide for you,” she said.

The words didn’t hurt the way they used to.

They just sounded incredibly desperate.

“I wore the uniform because I wanted to serve,” I said.

“And Andrew wore it to line his pockets,” I added.

The door opened, and Major Vance entered.

He carried a thick blue folder under his arm.

“Colonel,” he said, addressing me.

“The Provost Marshal has completed the initial inventory,” Vance said.

He laid the folder on the laminate table.

“They found the foreign bank routing numbers in the second ledger,” Vance said.

“They also found correspondence with a logistics contractor in San Antonio,” he added.

Claire took a step toward the table, her eyes fixed on the blue folder.

“What kind of correspondence?” she asked.