PART 5
I drove to my father's house that evening.
I didn't go as a daughter.
I went as an officer trying to understand a situation that had already become larger than any of us.
Dad was sitting at the kitchen table when I arrived.
The same table where he had spent thirty years praising Brandon.
The same table where my achievements had been treated like minor footnotes.
He looked older than I remembered.
“Sit down,” he said.
I remained standing.
“Tell me everything.”
Dad rubbed his hands together.
“I never meant for it to go this far.”
“What did you do?”
“I introduced Brandon to a contractor.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I was helping him.”
I said nothing.
Dad continued.
“The contractor told me they could help him advance.
Better evaluations.
Better assignments.
Recommendations.”
My stomach turned.
“So you arranged favors for him.”
“I arranged an opportunity.”
“By falsifying records?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Dad looked toward the window.
“I don't know.”
That answer wasn't good enough.
I stepped closer.
“Dad.”
He finally looked at me.
“Brandon discovered the discrepancies before anyone else.
He confronted me.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He told me someone was using his credentials.”
“Why didn't he report it?”
Dad looked ashamed.
“Because he was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That people would believe he was responsible.”
I remembered Brandon's face on the ship.
For the first time, I understood why he had looked so frightened when the investigators mentioned the credentials.
Dad continued.
“He asked me to help him find out who was doing it.”
“And instead?”
“I tried to handle it myself.”
My voice hardened.
“You had no authority to conduct a private investigation into a military security matter.”
“I know.”
“You could have compromised evidence.”
“I know.”
“And you put my brother in an even worse position.”
Dad lowered his head.
“I know.”
For thirty years, I had believed my father favored Brandon because he thought Brandon was better than me.
Now I realized something more painful.
Dad hadn't believed Brandon was better.
He had been protecting him.
From consequences.
From failure.
From the truth.
And every time Dad protected Brandon, I was expected to accept the unfairness quietly.
Then Dad slid an envelope across the table.
“I found this in my mailbox yesterday.”
Inside was a handwritten note.
It contained only one sentence.
STOP DIGGING, OR YOUR DAUGHTER PAYS THE PRICE.
My blood went cold.
Dad looked at me.
“I didn't tell you because I thought I could protect you.”
I folded the note.
“You couldn't.”
Then my phone rang.
Captain Reynolds.
I answered.
“General.”
“What happened?”
“We found the person who accessed Brandon's credentials.”
My pulse quickened.
“Who?”
There was a long pause.
Then Captain Reynolds said:
“General, you need to come back to base immediately.”
“Why?”
“Because the access came from inside your own inspection team.”
