“May we come inside, Commander? This is a matter of state security.”

I stepped aside and waved them into my small, dimly lit hallway.

They walked in, their wet boots leaving dark, glistening prints on the hardwood floor.

They did not look like local police; they looked like military men dressed for a high-level diplomatic summit.

“Your sister told the Royal Family that you were deceased,” Vance said, turning to face me.

I froze, my hand still resting on the doorknob.

“She what?” I asked.

“She claimed her entire immediate family was dead,” Vance continued.

He pulled a thick leather folder from inside his coat.

“She stated that her father, William Carter, died of natural causes, and that her mother, Margaret Carter, passed away ten years ago.”

“Our mother did die,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “And our father died last year. But I am very much alive.”

“Yes,” Vance said. “And that is only the first contradiction.”

He opened the folder, revealing a high-resolution photograph of Rachel.

She was wearing a diamond tiara, standing next to a tall, blonde man in a ceremonial dress uniform.

Rachel looked beautiful, but her eyes held the same desperate, scheming look I remembered from our childhood.

“The wedding was scheduled for tomorrow morning at the royal cathedral,” Vance said.

“The King ordered a final background check on the bride’s family.”

“Why come to me?” I asked. “If she lied, just cancel the wedding and send her back to the States.”

“It is not that simple,” Vance said.

He pulled out another document, this one bearing the official seal of the United States Navy.

“We found your military record, Commander.”

“My record is spotless,” I said, my chest tightening.

“Not according to the files Rachel submitted to the Royal Palace,” Vance said.

He handed me a sheet of paper.

I looked down at the forged document.