Chapter 7 - THE PRICE OF A COLONEL

“In exchange for the colonel.”

I hated the sentence.

Major Ellis hated it more.

Victor eventually asked for an attorney and refused questions.

But investigators did not need his cooperation for everything.

Bank records showed Ryan had promised Victor a percentage of a future “consulting contract.”

The contract described me as a strategic advisor.

My signature was forged.

The agreement would have required me to provide “risk assessments, government-industry insights and access facilitation.”

It was written vaguely enough to sound legitimate.

“They wanted to monetize your position.”

“Without my cooperation?”

“They believed they could get it.”

“How?”

He looked at me.

“Pressure. Debt. Marriage. Maybe blackmail.”

Suddenly the forged mortgage made sense.

If I discovered the debt after it became too large to escape, Ryan could offer a solution.

Victor’s company.

Consulting money.

A way out.

All I would have to do was cross one line.

Then another.

Then another.

I felt cold.

“Did Ryan understand what he was doing?”

“We need evidence of intent.”

Once she quits, we get everything she has access to.

He understood enough.

That night, General Reed called me.

“Colonel, I’m giving you an option to delay assumption of command.”

I knew why.

Scandal.

Investigation.

Personal chaos.

“No, sir.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

I blinked.

He continued.

“I wanted to hear you say it.”

The next morning, I stood before my new unit.

No wig.

I told them only what they needed to know.

“I’ve had a difficult week. It will not affect this mission.”

A captain in the front row smiled.

“Understood, ma’am.”

That was the gift of professionals.

They did not need my humiliation explained.

After the briefing, Major Ellis waited outside.

“We got into one of Ryan’s encrypted cloud folders.”

“What’s inside?”

“Photographs of documents from your home office.”

I exhaled.

“Anything sensitive?”

“Not classified.”

I relaxed slightly.

Then he added, “But there’s a folder labeled PHASE TWO.”

Inside was a photograph of a marriage license.

Not ours.

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Ryan’s.

Dated three years before he married me.