My stomach tightened into a hard knot.

I remembered the case file, the missing transport logs, and the sudden, overriding order from my superiors to bury the investigation.

I had not saved him out of mercy; I had been forced to walk away from a crime.

“You did your duty, Colonel,” I said, keeping my voice flat and professional.

“And so did you,” he replied, though his eyes looked hollow under the bright dining room lights.

Before my mother could steer the conversation back to wedding venues, the heavy oak front door of the estate groaned open.

Cool night air swept into the warm dining room, smelling of damp grass and incoming rain.

Footsteps echoed sharply on the marble of the foyer.

A man stepped into the dining room doorway, dripping wet from the sudden drizzle outside.

It was Aaron Vale.

He wore a faded military jacket, and his grey hair was damp and plastered to his forehead.

Cassandra stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.

“Uncle Aaron?” she said, her voice dropping its polite tone. “What are you doing here? You were not invited.”

Aaron did not look at her.

He looked straight at Colonel Whitaker, then turned his gaze to me.

“The side gate was open, Thomas,” Aaron said, his voice raw and unsteady.

Colonel Whitaker gripped the edge of the mahogany table, his knuckles turning white under his tanned skin.

“Aaron, leave,” the Colonel commanded. “This is a private family dinner.”

“We are not a family,” Aaron said. “We are a cover-up.”

My mother gasped, clutching her napkin to her chest.

Ethan stood up, stepping slightly in front of Cassandra. “Sir, I think you need to go.”

Aaron ignored my brother completely and reached inside his damp jacket.

He pulled out a thick, yellow manila envelope.