I had asked her, quietly, to do one thing: pull the access logs on my daughter’s records.

Not because I suspected anything specific yet, but because thirty years had taught me that when a wealthy family targets a soldier’s child, the first question is never why. It is how did they know where to aim. Zuri’s face on the small screen was tight when she finished.

What she had found was not a coincidence and not a leak.

It was a door that had been deliberately opened.

“Colonel,” she said, and I heard her choose her words with care, “someone inside your own command gave them access.

Her background.