“If My Daughter’s A General, Then I’m A Ballerina,” He Said—Until The Doors Opened

still eating, still celebrating themselves.

“The reunion?” I asked.

“Remains unaware. We’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“Agreed. Let’s move.”

We descended via the service elevator—silent, efficient, practiced. On the third floor, two more agents stood outside Conference Suite C. One opened the door without a word.

Inside, sitting calmly at a long table continue reading …