Chapter 8 - A Cold Conversation At The Head Table
At Table One, the waiters served hot plates of seared beef tenderloin and grilled asparagus on gold-rimmed china.
Undersecretary Miller leaned toward me, setting his linen napkin in his lap while keeping his voice low and private.
“Mara, I apologize for the drama at the rear tables,” Miller murmured smoothly.
“We’ve been monitoring Captain Hawthorne’s unit for several weeks regarding supply chain irregularities.”
I paused, holding my silver fork halfway to my plate as I looked at the Undersecretary.
“Supply chain irregularities?” I repeated quietly, keeping my face completely passive.
“Yes,” General Caldwell chimed in from my left, leaning in so the surrounding dignitaries couldn't hear.
“Several high-value logistics contracts linked to his quartermaster division have shown significant budget discrepancies.”
“We were planning to initiate a formal inquiry next month, but given tonight’s events, I think we need to accelerate the timeline.”
I took a slow breath, letting the information register in my mind.
Ethan hadn't just been ignorant of my real job—he had been hiding things from me because he knew what I investigated.
His discomfort whenever I brought up my oversight work wasn't just arrogance or embarrassment over my civilian cover.
It was fear.
He was terrified that if I looked too closely at his administrative files, I would uncover the mess he was involved in at base logistics.
His mother’s push to align him with Audrey Caldwell—the daughter of the Major General—wasn't just social climbing.
It was a desperate, calculated attempt to secure a political shield before the financial audit finally hit his desk.
I glanced back over my shoulder toward Table Seven, where Ethan was staring into his cold soup plate like a condemned man.
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The humiliation he felt tonight wasn't the end of his problems.
It was merely the opening act of an investigation that was about to strip away everything he had ever cared about.
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