Chapter 3 - THE CONTRACTI left the engagement party at 10:14 p.m.
Not because Preston asked me to.
Because staying would have accomplished nothing.
Mom tried to stop me at the hotel entrance.
“Caroline, we need to talk.”
“We’ve had forty-two years.”
“That’s cruel.”
“No, Mom. It’s arithmetic.”
Her face crumpled for half a second.
Once, that would have made me immediately apologize.
Instead, I kissed Dad’s cheek and walked to my car.
At 5:32 the next morning, I entered a secure conference room where nobody cared about my family drama.
That was comforting.
Colonel Maya Bennett was already inside.
She had served with me for nine years and possessed the supernatural ability to recognize trouble before I mentioned it.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Family party?”
“How did you know?”
“You only get that expression after enemy fire or Thanksgiving.”
I set my folder down.
“Grant showed up.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“At the party?”
“He saluted me.”
Maya slowly removed her glasses.
“Oh, no.”
“Two hundred witnesses.”
“Oh, that is magnificent.”
“It was not magnificent.”
“It was magnificent for everyone except you.”
I tried not to smile.
She failed to suppress hers.
“Did your mother finally discover you don’t stock shelves?”
“Something like that.”
The secure door opened before she could ask more.
For the next three hours, I worked.
That was what I understood.
Data.
Deployment schedules.
Failure rates.
Transportation corridors.
Numbers didn’t love you.
But they didn’t lie out of habit either.
The meeting concerned Project Meridian, a fictional next-generation communications and battlefield logistics system intended to link supply, medical, and operational networks.
Contract value: enormous.
Strategic importance: larger.
Five primary bidders had been reduced to three.
Halcyon Defense was one of them.
My stomach dropped when the company name appeared on the screen.
I kept my expression neutral.
General Grant noticed anyway.
Afterward, he asked me to remain.
Everyone else left.
“Your brother works for Halcyon,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Senior position.”
“Apparently.”
“You weren’t involved in selecting the finalists.”
“No.”
“I know.”
He folded his arms.
“But your new command will be responsible for evaluating operational integration.”
That meant Halcyon would soon fall inside my professional orbit.
“I’ll disclose the relationship formally.”
“Already done.”
I blinked.
Grant handed me a document.
Conflict-of-interest recusal protocols.
Prepared at 2:17 that morning.
“You work fast.”
“I’m old. I sleep badly.”
I read it.
The restrictions were appropriate.
I would be removed from all decisions directly affecting Halcyon’s award.
Grant studied me.
“There’s another problem.”
I looked up.
“Northstar.”
There it was.
The name from the investigative files.
“What about them?”
“They supplied components under two emergency contracts last year.”
“I read the performance summaries.”
“Then you noticed the numbers.”
“Failure rates were triple the accepted threshold.”
“And yet the certification paperwork showed compliance.”
“Who signed?”
“That is now under Inspector General review.”
Grant paused.
“Northstar is controlled by Halcyon.”
A cold pressure formed beneath my ribs.
“Does Preston know?”
“We don’t know.”
“Am I being told this because he’s my brother?”
“You’re being told because last night a Halcyon executive began asking people why I approached you.”
I stared at him.
“That fast?”
“Faster.”
He leaned against the table.
“Somebody at that party recognized your new assignment.”
My skin prickled.
Only a limited circle knew.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning your family gathering may have included someone with access they shouldn’t have.”
I thought about the executives surrounding Preston.
Howard Bellamy.
Chief operating officer.
Several vice presidents.
A congressional consultant.
Two lobbyists.
And one man Preston had introduced only as “Uncle Rick’s friend.”
“I need the guest list.”
Grant shook his head.
“You need to do your job.”
I knew what he meant.
Investigators would handle it.
My family connection made me radioactive.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Because your expression says you’re about six minutes from conducting your own investigation.”
“I would give myself ten.”
He smiled despite himself.
“Caroline.”
“Sir.”
“Stay out of Halcyon.”
“I will.”
“And stay away from your brother’s work.”
“I will.”
He headed toward the door.
Then stopped.
“For what it’s worth, congratulations.”
“On what?”
“Your promotion becoming the worst-kept secret in Virginia.”
I groaned.
By lunch, three military publications had mentioned it.
By 2 p.m., someone had posted a video of Grant saluting me.
By 4 p.m., it had spread far beyond military circles.
The caption read:
FAMILY MOCKS WOMAN’S ARMY JOB—THEN FOUR-STAR GENERAL WALKS IN.
I hated every second.
Maya loved it.
“You’re a meme.”
“I command people.”
“You can do both.”
“No.”
She turned her laptop toward me.
Someone had frozen the exact moment Preston realized I was a general.
Beneath it:
WHEN YOUR SISTER’S “LITTLE ARMY JOB” HAS STARS.
I closed the screen.
“I’m transferring you to Alaska.”
“You don’t have authority over me.”
“I’ll find some.”
My phone buzzed.
Madison.
I hesitated before answering.
“Hello?”
Her voice was shaky.
“Caroline, I need to see you.”
“What happened?”
“I found something in Preston’s office.”
I immediately became cautious.
“Madison, don’t remove anything.”
“I already did.”
My eyes closed.
“What?”
“A flash drive.”
“Do not open it.”
“I did that too.”
“Maddie.”
“I thought he was cheating.”
That stopped me.
“What did you find?”
“Not another woman.”
She started crying.
“Contracts. Emails. Shipping records. I don’t understand most of it.”
I stood.
“Where are you?”
“At my apartment.”
“Is Preston there?”
“No.”
“Lock the door.”
“Caroline…”
“What?”
“There are messages about you.”
A chill ran across my arms.
“What kind of messages?”
“Before your promotion. Before the party.”
My pulse slowed the way it always did when danger became real.
“Read me one line.”
Papers moved.
Then Madison whispered:
“‘If Vance gets the command, we lose our inside route.’”
I said nothing.
“There’s another.”
“Go ahead.”
“‘Her brother can control her.’”
For the first time since the engagement party, I wasn’t angry with Preston.
I was afraid for him.
“Madison, listen carefully. Do not call anyone. Do not email those files. Do not copy anything else.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know what you found.”
I picked up the secure office phone.
“But I know who needs to.”
Thirty-eight minutes later, two investigators arrived at Madison’s building.
I did not go.
I followed orders.
At 8:47 that evening, my brother called.
I answered.
His breathing was ragged.
“You sent federal investigators to Madison’s apartment.”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“She contacted me.”
“You had no right.”
“She found something.”
Silence.
Then:
“What did she tell you?”
The question confirmed more than Preston realized.
“Enough.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I can’t.”
“You’d better start trying.”
He lowered his voice.
“They used me.”
“Who?”
“Halcyon.”
“How?”
“I thought the paperwork was legitimate.”
“What paperwork?”
“Caroline…”
His voice cracked.
My brother had mocked me all my life.
I had never heard him sound afraid.
“Where are you?”
I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Preston.”
“I need help.”
I stood.
“Tell me where you are.”
Before he could respond, another voice sounded faintly through his phone.
A man.
“Hang up.”
Preston whispered, “Oh God.”
The line went dead.
I called back.
Straight to voicemail.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then a text appeared from his number.
DON’T CONTACT ME AGAIN.
I stared at it.
Something was wrong with the punctuation.
Preston never used periods in texts.
He used no punctuation at all.
I called General Grant.
“Sir.”
May you like
“What happened?”
“I think my brother is in trouble.”
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