“Let me take that, Richard,” Hayes said, his voice flat and authoritative.

He reached out and took the champagne glass from my father’s hand before Richard could protest.

Richard let the glass go, his fingers brushing against Hayes’s leather glove.

“Of course, Colonel,” Richard said, his expression softening into one of deep, paternal concern.

Carolyn looked between us, her fingers trembling against her pearl necklace.

“What is happening here?” she whispered. “Richard, tell me what is happening.”

“It is nothing to worry about, Carolyn,” Richard said, turning his gaze back to me.

He took a slow breath, letting his shoulders drop as if carrying a heavy burden.

“Natalie has had a very difficult deployment,” Richard said to the guests, his voice carrying clearly across the silent ballroom.

A murmur ran through the crowd.

“The pressure on our soldiers is immense,” Richard continued, taking a step toward me with his hands held open. “Sometimes, the battlefield follows them home.”

“Do not do this, Dad,” I said.

My hand rested near my side, my fingers twitching toward a muscle memory of a holster that wasn’t there.