The team had not come to intimidate my family, settle a property dispute, or make anyone apologize. Their orders were narrow: locate me, confirm my condition, secure my classified materials, and transport me to protected temporary housing before my emergency leave officially ended.
David’s final mission had exposed information that could no longer be treated as contained. The risk assessment had changed during the night, and my pregnancy had raised my extraction priority.
The convoy was there because of that risk.
The humiliation unfolding in the driveway belonged entirely to my family.
My father finally found his voice.
“You’re a major?”
“I am.”
“In the Army?”
“Yes.”
He looked from me to the vehicles and then back to the old T-shirt stretched over my stomach.
“But you said you worked in an office.”
“I said my work involved Department of Defense administration. That was the cover I was authorized to give you.”
Harper folded her arms.
