My mother-in-law shaved my head while I slept on the very night the United States Army promoted me into one of the most important commands of my career.

I looked at the neat rows of folders on my desk. Intelligence briefings. Personnel rosters. Transition orders. The architecture of responsibility.

Then my phone buzzed again.

Linda.

A voicemail appeared.

I played it on speaker.

Her voice filled the room, shrill and furious.

“You ungrateful little witch. You think a uniform makes you untouchable? You come home now, or I will show every person on that base what kind of woman you really are. Ryan has papers. We have proof you’re unstable. We have photographs. You’ll lose that command before lunch.”

The voicemail ended.

General Halvorsen’s expression did not change, but the room seemed to grow colder around him.

Sarah said softly, “That was useful.”