“It was a maintenance issue,” Gordon said, his voice suddenly thin and reedy. “The Navy didn’t follow the prescribed service schedule.”

“You lied about the nickel alloy content, Dad,” I said, stepping closer to him.

He did not look at me.

His eyes remained fixed on the flashing red light of the desktop server.

“I built that company from nothing,” he muttered, looking at the floor.

“You built it on lies that might just drown a hundred and forty sailors,” I said.

I turned back to Vice Admiral Bell, the weight of my uniform suddenly feeling like lead on my shoulders.

My father was the prime suspect in a federal investigation involving maritime fraud and potential manslaughter.

I was the Rear Admiral overseeing the strategic readiness of the very vessels his company had compromised.

The conflict of interest was a glaring, insurmountable barrier.

“Admiral Bell,” I said, my voice steady despite the hammering in my chest. “I am formally recusing myself from the investigation into Hart Precision Marine.”

Bell stared at me, his grey eyes assessing my face for any sign of hesitation.