“Why would he ask that?” I asked.

“I thought he was just being supportive,” she sobbed, a tear spilling down her cheek. “I thought he wanted to understand Nathan’s work because we were getting married.”

She gripped my sleeve, her fingers digging into the dark wool.

“He used me, Evelyn,” she said. “He wanted to know when the pressure testing would happen so he could delay the inspection reports.”

I could not offer her comfort, not with the *Oregon* fighting for its life in the Pacific.

“I have to go to my office, Caroline,” I said gently, removing her hand from my arm.

She sank back against the wooden bench, looking small and broken under the harsh fluorescent lights.

I walked to the administrative wing and sat at my mahogany desk.

The office was quiet, save for the hum of the computer terminal.

I pulled up the template for a formal recusal.

I typed my name, my rank, and the specific details of the conflict of interest.

The words felt like a surrender, but they were the only way to preserve the integrity of the case against my father.