“He was trespassing?”
“Possibly,” Hayes said. “Or he was brought in by someone.”
The room went silent again.
Bradley Knox.
His friends.
Someone with access.
Someone arrogant enough to believe rules applied only to people beneath him.
I kept my hands folded in my lap.
Captain Hayes studied me.
“Madison, this may no longer be only a bullying inquiry.”
I had expected that.
Still, hearing it aloud made the room feel smaller.
“What is it, ma’am?”
Commander Callahan answered.
“A test.”
I turned toward him.
“A test?”
He nodded.
“Someone wanted to see what you would do under pressure.”
“Ethan?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
Callahan’s eyes sharpened.
“Because of your father.”
The words landed heavily.
My father had retired from active duty with more scars than stories. He was respected, but not universally loved. People who enforced standards rarely collected only friends.
Captain Hayes leaned forward.
“Your father has been contacted.”
That broke my composure.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“You called him?”
“Yes.”
“And my mother?”
“Yes.”
I pictured them at home in North Carolina, receiving a call from the Naval Academy about a viral video involving their daughter, a disgraced former candidate, and possible targeting.
My father would go silent.
My mother would ask precise questions.
Neither would panic.
That was their way.
But I knew them well enough to know they would already be moving.
“What did they say?” I asked.
Commander Callahan answered.
“Your mother said you were trained not to fold.”
A faint ache opened in my chest.
“And my father?”
Callahan almost smiled.
“He asked whether Ethan still limps on his left leg.”
Despite everything, I nearly laughed.
That sounded exactly like him.
Captain Hayes did not smile.
“Midshipman Parker, until we understand the full scope of this situation, you are not to confront Bradley Knox, his associates, or Ethan Vale if you see him.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You are also not to discuss this inquiry publicly.”
