And I can't fix what I let happen."
Blake took a step back.
"So that's it?
You're just going to let them take me?"
"They're not taking you," I said.
"You're being arrested."
Two agents moved to either side of Blake.
One placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Blake Harrington, you are under arrest for wire fraud, money laundering, and embezzlement of funds from a registered charitable organization.
You have the right to remain silent."
Blake pulled away.
"This is ridiculous.
Do you know who my father-in-law is?"
"Yes," the agent said.
"He's sitting right there."
Blake looked at my father one last time.
"You destroyed this family," he said.
My father didn't look up.
Blake was led through the ballroom doors.
The sound of his shoes on the marble floor echoed for a moment.
Then the doors closed.
The room was silent.
My mother stood in the center of it all.
Her hands were clasped in front of her, knuckles white.
She looked at the empty stage, then at me.
"Ava," she said.
I waited.
"Did you have to do it here?
In front of everyone?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because if I did it privately, you would have buried it.
You would have told me to handle it quietly.
You would have said, 'Think of the family.' And nothing would have changed."
Her chin dropped.
"Mom, I've spent my whole life being told I was the problem.
That I was difficult.
That I didn't fit.
I left home at eighteen and you never once called to ask how I was doing.
I served three overseas deployments.
You never asked about any of them.
I built a career in national security.
You told people I 'worked with computers.'"
Celeste's eyes filled with tears.
"The only time you ever reached out was when you saw a photo of a car you thought I couldn't afford.
Not because you were proud.
Because you were suspicious."
"I didn't know," she whispered.
"You didn't want to know."
She sat down.
Her hands rested on the table in front of her, perfectly still.
The same table where, an hour earlier, she had whispered at me about my clothes.
General Pierce approached me.
She had been standing near the stage throughout, watching, letting me run the room.
"Colonel Lane," she said quietly.
"The evidence package is strong.
With your sister's recordings, this case will move quickly."
"Thank you, General."
She looked at my father, then back at me.
"I'm sorry it came to this."
"It didn't have to."
She nodded and followed the agents out.
The donors were being interviewed one by one.
The ballroom emptied slowly.
Chairs scraped.
Voices murmured.
A few people glanced at me as they left.
Some looked away.
One older woman — a longtime member of my father's church — stopped in front of me.
"Colonel Lane," she said.