MILITARY DETENTION FACILITY
Miguel was at his office in the detention facility when a soldier walked in briskly, saluted sharply, and said, "Sir, Lisa Moore is here to see you."
Miguel didn’t flinch. His fingers paused only briefly on the report he was reviewing. He had expected this visit. After the very public arrest of Malcolm Moore, it was only a matter of time before his daughter would come knocking.
He closed the file with a quiet thud and set it aside. “Let her in,” he said simply, his voice even.
The soldier nodded and stepped out. A few seconds later, Lisa Moore appeared in the doorway. She wore a charcoal gray suit, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor as she entered. Her composure was impressive—cool, collected—but Miguel could see the tightness in her jaw, the
