Part 2
The siren screaming from Marcus’s phone was so loud that my mother clamped her hands over her ears with a gasp. The flashing red light cast long, demonic shadows across the dining room walls.
Marcus staggered backward, bumping into the antique china cabinet. His smug, impenetrable arrogance vanished in a millisecond, replaced by wild, unadulterated panic. He mashed his thumb against the screen, desperately trying to close the application.
“What the hell did you do?” he roared, his voice cracking. He lunged forward, his heavy hand shooting out to grab my collar. “Is this a virus? What kind of hacker joke is this, Cecilia?!”
Before his fingers could crush into my shirt, my dad was out of his chair. A retired construction worker with shoulders like boulders, my father stepped between us and shoved Marcus so hard the soldier stumbled backward, his shiny dress shoes slipping on the hardwood floor.
“Don’t you ever lay a hand on my daughter!” my dad bellowed, his face purple with rage. My three older brothers immediately stood up, forming a human wall around me.
“I didn’t do anything, Marcus,” I said, stepping calmly around my dad. I kept my voice perfectly level. “You ran the query. I warned you.”
“It won’t turn off!” Marcus hyperventilated, staring at the screen in horror. Bold, black text had materialized over the flashing red background: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS. TS/SCI COMPARTMENT OMEGA 9. LOCATION TRACED. PROTOCOL INITIATED.
“Marcus, what is happening?” Paige cried out, tears finally spilling over her eyelashes. She was clutching her napkin like a lifeline. “Turn it off!”
“I can’t!” he yelled, his hands shaking so violently the phone nearly dropped.
Suddenly, the blaring siren abruptly stopped. The dining room fell into a ringing, terrifying silence. But the screen remained blood-red. A second later, the phone began to vibrate violently. An incoming call.
The caller ID displayed a single, terrifying acronym: DIA COUNTERINTELLIGENCE DIR.
All the color drained from Marcus’s face. He looked like a man standing on the trapdoor of the gallows. With a trembling, sweaty finger, he swiped to answer and pressed the phone to his ear.
“L-Lieutenant Colonel Webb speaking,” he stammered, completely abandoning his alpha-male bravado.
I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but I knew exactly who it was. Major General Donaldson’s executive officer, Major Elias Donaldson. A man who did not understand the concept of a joke.
Marcus’s eyes widened in terror. “Sir… sir, please, it was an accident. A glitch in my terminal! I miskeyed a serial number!”
He was lying. The coward was trying to save his own skin by claiming it was a typo. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Put it on speaker, Marcus,” I commanded. It wasn’t a request. It was the voice of a senior intelligence officer, carrying the weight of a Pentagon mandate.
Marcus was too paralyzed by fear to argue. He slowly pulled the phone from his ear and tapped the speaker icon.
“—do not care what you claim it was, Colonel Webb,” Major Donaldson’s voice boomed through the quiet dining room, sharp and metallic. “You have just triggered a Class-1 unauthorized access alert on a Compartment Omega 9 intelligence asset. You bypassed three separate firewall warnings. Your security clearance is effectively suspended as of this exact second.”
“Sir, please, I have my promotion board next month!” Marcus begged, tears of panic actually forming in his eyes. “I didn’t see any files! I don’t even know what Omega 9 is!”
“It is a lethal force protection designation, you idiot,” Donaldson barked. “You intentionally queried an embedded asset. I have military police units mobilizing to your GPS coordinates right now. Before they breach your location, I need immediate visual and verbal confirmation of the asset’s safety. Put Analyst Odum on the line immediately.”
Marcus froze. The phone hovered in his shaking hand. He slowly raised his head, his wide, terrified eyes locking onto mine. The gears in his brain violently ground to a halt as the reality of the situation crashed down upon him.
“Analyst… Odum?” Marcus whispered, his voice sounding hollow and small.
Behind him, my entire family—my parents, my siblings, and Paige—were staring at me with their jaws practically on the floor.
I stepped forward, plucked the vibrating phone out of his sweaty, trembling fingers, and held it to my mouth.
Part 3
“Donaldson, it’s Odum,” I said crisriply into the receiver. “Cancel the MP dispatch. The perimeter is secure. I am completely safe.”
The relief in the Major’s voice was palpable, even through the speaker. “Copy that, Ma’am. Are you compromised? Do you need extraction?”
“Negative, Elias,” I replied, using his first name, which made Marcus violently flinch. “Just a domestic dispute with a rogue Lieutenant Colonel who decided to use DOD infrastructure to try and humiliate me at a family dinner.”
“Understood, Ma’am,” Donaldson said, his tone turning to pure ice. “Colonel Webb’s access has been permanently revoked. He is currently in violation of Article 92 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. We will be opening a formal investigation into his conduct. Should I have him detained?”
I looked at Marcus. The great, powerful military man was completely broken. His shoulders were slumped, his face was pale and slick with sweat, and he looked like he was about to vomit all over his polished dress shoes.
“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “I’ll make sure he leaves the premises immediately. Odum out.”
I tapped the screen, ending the call, and tossed the phone onto the dining table. It clattered against a plate, sounding like a gunshot in the silent room.
I turned my attention to the man shrinking before me. “You wanted to know my salary, Marcus? You wanted to know what step of the GS scale I’m on?” I took a step closer, forcing him to back away. “I am a Senior Intelligence Executive. I track international espionage. My salary is classified, just like everything else about my life. But I can promise you, it’s significantly higher than a disgraced, unemployed officer facing a court-martial.”
Marcus opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked to Paige, extending a shaking hand toward her. “Paige… baby… please. Tell her. Tell her I was just joking. She’s going to ruin my life.”
Paige stood up. For the first time since she had brought this man into our home, she looked perfectly clear-headed. The illusion of the dashing, powerful officer was gone, replaced by the pathetic reality of a controlling, insecure bully.
She reached for her left hand, grabbed the diamond engagement ring he had given her, and yanked it off her finger. She threw it. The ring bounced off Marcus’s chest and hit the floor, rolling under the china cabinet.
“You’re an arrogant, controlling piece of garbage,” Paige said, her voice shaking but filled with venom. “We are done. Get out of my parents’ house before I let my brothers throw you out.”
Marcus looked around the room. Every single face was hardened with disgust. My dad pointed a thick, calloused finger directly at the front door.
Without a word, Marcus turned on his heel and practically sprinted down the hallway. The front door opened, then slammed shut, rattling the picture frames on the walls.
For a long moment, nobody moved. The sound of his car tires peeling out of the driveway faded into the quiet suburban night.
Then, my dad slowly turned his head to look at me. “Data entry and archiving, huh?”
“It’s a very broad department, Dad,” I said, offering a small, apologetic smile.
Paige let out a wet laugh that quickly turned into a sob. I immediately crossed the room and wrapped my arms around my younger sister. She buried her face in my shoulder, crying out the stress and the shock of the evening.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered into my shirt. “I’m so sorry I brought him here. I’m sorry he treated you like that.”
“Hey,” I murmured, rubbing her back. “It’s okay. You’re safe. And honestly? I’m glad he showed you who he really was before you married him.”
My oldest brother let out a low whistle, collapsing back into his chair. “So… do you have like, a license to kill or something?”
“If I did, I would have used it before the appetizers,” I joked, pulling away from Paige and wiping a tear from her cheek. I walked over to the table and picked up my wine glass. “Now, if nobody minds, my classified salary and I would very much like to finish this roast beef.”
The tension in the room finally broke. The family erupted into nervous laughter, a million questions flying through the air as we all sat back down. My life of perfect secrecy was over, at least with my family. But as I took a sip of my wine, surrounded by the people who truly loved me, I realized I didn’t mind one bit.
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