“And we would have starved,” she said.

The room went completely silent.

Even the fire seemed to quiet down, the dry birch logs hissing in the hearth.

Ethan took a step toward her, his face pale.

“Mother,” Ethan said. “What are you saying?”

“The Mercer Group was failing fifteen years ago,” she said, her eyes locked on me.

“Your father had made bad investments.”

“The only thing that saved us was the logistics subcontract with Whitaker’s division.”

She stepped closer to me, her fingers twitching.

“I knew about the faulty armor plating,” she said.

“I knew before the convoy ever left the base.”

The words hung in the warm, expensive air of the room.

Cassandra drew a sharp breath and pressed her back against the piano.

“You knew,” I whispered.

“I knew it would destroy us if it came out,” my mother said.

“So I helped Thomas ensure the reports were filed incorrectly.”

“It was a simple clerical error.”

“A tragic mistake in a war zone.”

“You let Aaron take the blame,” I said, my chest tightening.

“Aaron was a drunk who could not keep his hands steady,” she said coldly.