The room fell silent. Celeste’s smile faltered. My father’s glass slipped from his hand and shattered. Whispers turned into stunned gasps. I returned the salute, armor-like resolve in every movement.
“That’s impossible,” Celeste whispered, eyes wide. “She didn’t even finish college.”
“I finished at sea,” I replied.
My father’s lips twitched into a forced smile. “Admiral Reed, I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. Evelyn has always had a flair for drama.”
“No misunderstanding, Mr. Harrington,” Reed’s voice cut through the tension like steel. “Your daughter commanded a classified recovery unit after the Pacific Star incident. She saved thirty-one sailors.”
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