They already had future plans for my house.
I took another drink without answering.
Across the yard, Richard watched me.
He nodded toward the side of the house.
Private conversation.
Of course.
I followed him.
“You need to handle something tomorrow,” he said immediately.
No greeting.
Just an order.
“What kind of something?”
“A transfer,” he said. “Paperwork. Simple.”
I already knew where this was going.
“Transfer of what?”
“The house.”
There it was.
“Chloe needs stability,” he continued. “You’re not here enough to justify holding on to a property like this.”
Holding on to.
Interesting.
“I’m here now,” I said.
He ignored that.
“You’ll go down to the office tomorrow,” he said. “Sign the documents. Make it official.”
Not a request.
“And if I don’t?”
His tone shifted.
“I still have connections,” he said. “People who remember what I’ve done, who I’ve helped.”
The old colonel emerged.
“You’re up for major soon,” he added. “It would be a shame if something complicated that process.”
I looked at him carefully.
This wasn’t family.
It was leverage.
Pressure.
Control.
Same tactics.
Different battlefield.
He still thought he was in command.
I let the silence sit.
Then I smiled.
“I’ll make sure the paperwork is handled exactly as it should be, Dad.”
He searched my face for resistance.
Found none.
“Good,” he said.
Then he walked away.
I stayed there, listening to the party.
Chloe still displaying the watch.
Vance still networking.
Evelyn still smiling as though everything was under control.
My smile stayed.
Through sunset.
Through the guests leaving.
Through the night.
And into the fluorescent-lit JAG office early Monday morning.
I carried my folder under one arm.
Clean floors.
Quiet halls.
No emotion.
Perfect.
A specialist checked me in, and two minutes later I sat across from Captain Morales.
