“My mother had nothing to do with the military investigation,” Cassandra said, her voice rising.

“She bought the investigation, Cassandra,” Aaron said softly.

He looked at Colonel Whitaker, who had sunk back into his chair, looking suddenly very old.

“She did it to protect the defense contracts,” Aaron continued. “If those shipping logs had leaked, the family empire would have collapsed before the public offering.”

I looked at the signatures again.

Eleanor Whitaker had personally authorized the shipment of defective armor plating that cost three soldiers their lives.

Then, she had signed the nondisclosure agreements that silenced the surviving unit.

“This isn’t real,” Cassandra said, turning to Ethan. “Tell her it’s a forgery. Uncle Aaron has been sick for years.”

Ethan did not answer.

He was looking at Colonel Whitaker’s face, which was entirely devoid of denial.

“Thomas,” my mother said, her voice sharp. “Tell them this is nonsense.”

The Colonel did not look up from his hands.

“It was Eleanor’s company,” he whispered. “She built it. I just… I wore the uniform.”

“You let her blame the supply sergeant,” Aaron said. “He went to prison, Thomas.”