I saw Captain Hayes lean forward from his table, his jaw set, watching Michael closely.

“This citation references the coordination of the evacuation protocols in the southern sector,” Michael said.

He gripped the edges of the wooden podium.

“Those protocols were not mine.”

“Michael, sit down,” Helen hissed from the front row, though only those closest to her could hear.

Her face had turned an unnatural, stiff shade of white beneath her makeup.

“They were designed and executed by Lieutenant Colonel Emerson Rogers,” Michael said into the microphone.

He looked directly at me.

“My sister.”

The silence in the room became absolute.

“The logs were altered,” Michael continued, his voice steadying. “I did not realize the extent of the misdirection until tonight.”

He stepped back from the podium.

“I will be submitting a formal request for a review of this commendation tomorrow morning.”

He walked off the stage, leaving the presenter holding the folder in mid-air.

Helen stood frozen as Michael walked past her, not looking at her once.

He walked straight toward the double doors where the two men in dark suits were waiting.