The Navy admirals at the front table immediately stood up.

Michael went rigid, his hand rising to a stiff salute.

Drummond did not look at the Navy officers.

He walked straight down the center aisle, his eyes fixed on Helen.

“Mrs. Rogers,” Drummond said, his voice carrying to every corner of the room.

“I am the one who signed the nondisclosure agreements for your daughter’s unit.”

He stopped three feet from her.

“And I can assure you, we never briefed you on her safety.”

Helen’s hand dropped to her side.

The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her skin looking pale under the yellow lights.

“General,” she stammered. “I only meant—”

“You meant to keep her hidden,” Drummond said.

He turned to me and offered a brief, professional nod.

“Colonel Rogers.”

“General,” I said, saluting.

He returned it quickly, then looked back at the crowd.

“I apologize for the intrusion, gentlemen,” Drummond said to the Navy brass.

“But the Department of the Navy does not allow its heroes to be brushed under the rug.”

He opened the leather folder.