Then I saw the section marked military.
My breath stopped.
There were names of officers. Former officers. Contractors. Spouses. Promotions delayed. Complaints buried. Medical boards influenced. Security clearances questioned.
And beside one entry dated six months earlier was my name.
Outcome pending.
I felt something cold move through me.
Alvarez, who had accompanied me as an official observer, leaned in just enough to read the page. His expression did not change, but his voice was quiet when he spoke.
“This goes beyond domestic fraud.”
Price closed the ledger. “Yes, Colonel. It does.”
Linda suddenly smiled.
It was small. Fragile. Terrifying.
“You found paper,” she said. “Congratulations.”
No one spoke.
She looked at me. “Paper burns.”
Price’s radio crackled.
An agent near the back door shouted, “We have smoke!”
Everything happened at once.
A sharp alarm screamed from the basement. Agents moved fast, voices cutting through the house. Someone pulled Linda away from the sofa. Another ordered me toward the front door, but I was already turning toward the basement stairs.
My uniforms were down there.
My father’s flag was down there.
The original mortgage documents were in a fireproof safe down there.
And then I remembered something worse.
The old trunk.
Ryan’s trunk.
The one he had always said held childhood keepsakes.
I ran before anyone could stop me.
Smoke curled up the stairwell, thin but growing. I covered my mouth with my sleeve and descended far enough to see orange light licking behind the utility shelves. A trash bin burned near the wall, flames climbing toward stacked boxes.
Then I saw Ryan.
