“Thank you, sir.”

The ceremony was small. William was there in his dress uniform, fully recovered. He’d requested a transfer into my command structure. I’d approved it.

He was a good soldier, and he understood loyalty better than my blood relatives ever had.

Afterward, as I walked toward the exit, my aide fell into step beside me holding a thick manila folder.

“General, a piece of mail slipped through the security screening,” he said, handing me a cheap, crumpled white envelope. “It’s from the Federal Correctional Institution in Allenwood.

Marked urgent.”