The dining room of the Hart estate smelled of beeswax polish and roasted prime rib.

Silver candelabras cast flickering light over the heavy mahogany table.

My father, Gordon, sat at the head of the table, slowly swirling Cabernet in his crystal glass.

To his right sat my younger sister, Caroline, her manicured hand resting over her fiancé’s arm.

Nathan Reed looked highly uncomfortable in his Navy dress blues, his posture rigid and his eyes fixed on his plate.

“It is a shame you couldn’t wear something more feminine tonight, Evelyn,” my father said, gesturing at my dark blue service dress uniform.

“I came straight from the Pentagon, Father,” I said, taking a sip of water.

Paul Mercer, my father’s business partner, chuckled from across the table.

“Still shuffling papers for the desk generals?” Paul asked.

“Someone has to keep track of the strategic supply lines,” I replied, keeping my voice level.

“It must be hard,” Caroline said, flashing her new three-carat diamond ring in the candlelight. “Seeing Nathan and me starting a real life, while you’re stuck in a windowless cubicle.”

My father chuckled, a dry, dismissive sound that I had heard my entire life.

“Evelyn always did prefer logistics to leadership,” Gordon said, cutting his meat. “It’s why she never made anything of herself in the private sector.”

Nathan set his water glass down with a sharp, heavy click against the wood.

The table fell silent.

He stood up, his gaze locking onto me.

“Nathan, darling, what are you doing?” Caroline asked, tugging at his sleeve.

Nathan ignored her, came to attention, and brought his right hand swiftly to his brow.

“Good evening, Rear Admiral Hart,” Nathan said, his voice ringing through the high-ceilinged room.

My father stopped chewing, his fork suspended mid-air.

Paul Mercer lowered his wine glass, his brow furrowing.

“Nathan, stop playing games,” Caroline said, her voice rising in pitch. “She’s just a logistics coordinator.”

“Your sister is the Commander of Navy Strategic Readiness,” Nathan said, keeping his hand at his temple. “She answers directly to the Joint Chiefs of Staff.”

I returned the salute, dropping my hand first.

“Carry on, Commander,” I said.