MY SISTER WANTED TO HUMILIATE ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE ON THE PIER, BUT THE MOMENT SHE LEARNED WHY EVERYONE WAS LISTENING TO ME, SHE REALIZED SHE HAD MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE.

The kitchen on Linwood Avenue hadn't changed a bit in nearly two decades.

The same yellow wallpaper, the same worn linoleum floor, and the same comforting scent of pot roast and roasted potatoes filled the air. But the atmosphere around the dining table was entirely transformed.

Gwen sat across from me, quietly passing the serving bowl of vegetables. There was no tension, no sharp sarcasm, and no bitter accusations.

“So,” Dad said, clearing his throat as he carved the roast at the head of the table. “Gwen tells me you command a whole fleet of ships down there in Florida.”

“Not a fleet, Dad—a surface action group and waterfront inspection sector,” I corrected gently with a small smile. “Though some days it certainly feels like wrangling a fleet.”

“Well,” Mom chimed in, pouring iced tea into my glass with trembling hands, “whatever you call it, you handled those corporate criminals like a true professional. Gwen showed us the newspaper clipping from the Jacksonville Herald.”

Gwen looked up from her plate, her eyes meeting mine across the table. A quiet, unspoken understanding passed between us—the kind that could only be forged after surviving a mutual shipwreck.

“She’s tougher than we ever gave her credit for, Dad,” Gwen admitted softly, addressing the table. “I tried to throw her work in the river, and she ended up using my mistake to take down an entire industrial espionage ring.”

Dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess the Navy taught you a thing or two about turning a tactical disadvantage into a victory, eh, Corinne?”