Daniel’s head snapped toward Harris. “Separation? You can’t just evict me from my home.”

“It is not your home,” Harris said, not looking at him. “It is a secure military residence now.”

From the hallway upstairs, a bedroom door clicked open.

Ava stood there in her pajamas, her dark hair tangled, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

She looked down over the banister, her gaze shifting from the men in suits to her father, and finally to me in my uniform.

The bravado she had used the night before when she accused me of striking her was entirely gone.

She looked small, cold, and terrified.

“Dad?” she whispered. “What’s happening? Who are these people?”

Daniel did not answer her immediately; his eyes were still glued to his phone screen, which was now displaying a series of urgent emails from his business partners.

Without my backing, his architectural firm’s primary line of credit was gone, and his partners were already receiving notices of contract termination.

“Rachel,” Daniel said, his voice dropping to a desperate plea as he took a step up the stairs. “We can talk about this. Ava didn’t mean what she said. She was upset.”