“I’m looking officially retired,” he chuckled dryly. “There’s a difference.”

A few nearby guests laughed with relief, but the tension in the room didn’t fully lift. The air still felt like a taut wire.

Senator Whitcomb approached next, then Harlan West. Each greeting was brief, formal, and layered with quiet meaning. “Admiral, I still owe you a drink for that Norfolk briefing,” the Senator murmured.

“Your threat assessment last spring reshaped our entire procurement strategy,” West added, nodding deeply.

No one spoke excessively. People accustomed to high-stakes work know how to say volumes with economy. But with every respectful sentence, I watched another pillar kicked out from under my father’s ego.

He stood a few feet away with a stiff, polite smile and dead eyes. Griffin had stopped smiling entirely, like a man realizing he was trapped on a sinking ship.