The sleeve of my wet jacket had pulled back, exposing my wrist.

On my ring finger, the heavy silver band was visible.

It carried a distinct engraving of a cracked shield topped by a silent owl.

The Senator froze.

His face lost its color in an instant.

He took a step backward, nearly bumping into the corner of the mahogany desk.

“My God,” the Senator whispered.

Charles looked at him, frowning.

“Thomas? What is it?” Charles asked.

The Senator did not answer him.

He kept his eyes locked on my ring, then looked back up to my eyes.

“Where did you get that ring?” the Senator asked, his voice shaking.

“It was given to me,” I said.

“Thomas, it is just a piece of junk,” Charles said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

“He is a retired laborer.”

“Shut up, Charles,” the Senator snapped.

The room went completely silent except for the crackle of the fireplace.

Charles stared at the Senator, his mouth slightly open in disbelief.

“Do you have any idea who this is?” the Senator asked, pointing a trembling finger at me.