I came home after five years and my sister pointed at my shoulder and asked if that was my rank. It was a unit patch.

I met Brad at a quiet coffee shop near the Denver Tech Center at two o'clock.

He was sitting in a corner booth, dressed in civilian clothes—a plain polo shirt and jeans—looking entirely stripped of the arrogant posture he had displayed at my parents' dinner party four nights ago.

When I walked up, he stood up quickly, nearly knocking over his iced latte. "Sloane. Thanks for coming."

"You have five minutes, Lieutenant," I said, sitting down across from him without taking off my coat. "Make it count."

Brad swallowed hard, leaning across the table. "Look, I... I wanted to apologize. For Sunday night. For what Tiffany said about your rank, and... and about the police."

"You didn't seem very bothered by it on Sunday," I noted dryly.

"I didn't know!" Brad stammered, his hands fidgeting with his coffee cup. "I swear to God, Sloane, I had no idea your dad was trying to forge your name on property documents! Tiffany told me the Bear Creek property was a gift from your grandmother to her. She said you didn't care about the family land because you were career military."

"And you just believed her?"

"I didn't ask questions!" Brad admitted, his voice cracking slightly. "Your family made it look like they had endless money! My parents were impressed... my dad is a bank executive, and he was excited about the real estate connection. But now... Jesus, Sloane, my commander called me into his office this morning."

I tilted my head, interested. "Did he?"

"The police record from Sunday night showed up on a local blotter," Brad said, horror in his eyes. "And then someone sent an anonymous tip to my battalion commander mentioning that I was present during an attempted real estate fraud involving active-duty personnel. My commander told me that if my name gets attached to a criminal indictment, my promotion to Captain is dead. My military career is over."

I leaned back in the booth, crossing my arms. "So you came here to ask me to save you."

"I came to tell you that I'm breaking off the engagement," Brad blurted out. "I called off the wedding this morning. I handed Tiffany back her ring."

I stared at him. The great love story of Tiffany Sterling and her golden-boy Lieutenant had dissolved at the first sign of real friction.

"And," Brad continued, reaching into his leather bag and pulling out a thick manila folder, "I thought you should have this."

"What is it?"

"It’s a set of emails between your father and Tiffany from six months ago," Brad said quietly. "They were discussing how to handle your grandmother’s estate while you were deployed. Tiffany was the one who suggested telling you that the estate had no assets left so you wouldn't ask questions when you came back."

I looked at the folder, then looked at Brad.

"You're giving me proof that your ex-fiancée planned to defraud me?" I asked.