Chapter 2 - The Red Banner
The card lay on the crisp white linen tablecloth like a drop of fresh blood.
Victoria didn't look down immediately. She assumed it was a dependent ID, a standard military spouse decal or base gym pass that she could dismiss with a wave of her hand.
“Really, Rachel, amateur theatrics—”
She stopped.
Her gaze dropped to the card. The crimson security banner caught her eye first. Then the silver holographic seal of the Office of the Secretary of Defense. Then the alphanumeric clearance code stamped across the bottom in indelible black ink.
Level 10. Special Operations Directorate. Eyes Only.
Victoria’s breath hitched. The smug, condescending smile froze on her face, turning into a mask of sudden, profound confusion.
Colonel Avery, sitting two seats down, leaned forward out of sheer curiosity. When his eyes caught the emblem on the card, his military posture locked instantly. He blinked once, twice, staring at the card, then slowly raised his gaze to my face. The color drained from Colonel Avery’s cheeks so fast he looked like he had just seen a ghost on the parade ground.
“Is there a problem, Colonel?” I asked, my voice cutting through the silence of the table.
Avery didn't answer right away. He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.
Daniel stared at the card as if it were a venomous snake. “Rachel... what is this? Where did you get this?”
“You asked me to keep my work simple tonight, Daniel,” I said, looking straight into his wide, panicked eyes. “You told me your mother gets weird about rank. You thought I was just a low-level civilian contractor pushing paper in some windowless basement in Arlington, didn't you?”
“You said you worked in administration!” Daniel whispered harshly, his hands gripping the edge of the table.
“I said I worked for the government,” I corrected softly. “You filled in the blank with whatever made you feel like the dominant partner in this marriage.”
Victoria found her voice, though it shook slightly. “This... this is a fake. It has to be. You can't just print government insignias—military police—!”
She didn't get to finish the sentence.
Across the ballroom, near the grand arched entrance, two military police officers in crisp dress blues with white pistol belts had just stepped through the double doors.
They weren't there by coincidence.
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Victoria had called them thirty minutes earlier, whispering to a desk sergeant in the lobby that an unauthorized civilian was wandering the halls in a stolen gown.
She had summoned the MPs to throw me out.
