I put him on speaker so I could keep folding my uniforms into the duffel.

“Colleen, I’m sorry to tell you this,” he said. “Your aunt Evelyn passed away last week.”

I stopped what I was doing.

Aunt Evelyn was the one relative who actually kept in touch, sent me letters when I was deployed, remembered my birthday without Facebook reminders.

“She left you something,” Mark continued. “And it’s substantial. Eighty million dollars, plus the house on the river in Charleston.”

I had to sit down for that. Eighty million dollars. I’d seen military budgets smaller than that.

I asked him twice to repeat it. He confirmed it both times. It was in a trust under my name, airtight. No one else could touch it without my signature.

The first thought that crossed my mind wasn’t a yacht or a sports car. It was, How the hell am I going to keep this quiet until I figure things out?

Because if certain people in my family heard—especially my sister Natalie—it would turn into a circus.

Natalie and I aren’t what you’d call close. Growing up, she saw me as the golden child: good grades, sports scholarships, and eventually the Air Force. She made different choices—quitting college, bouncing between jobs, dating guys who couldn’t spell commitment.

She’s never forgiven me for being the responsible one. I’ve never forgiven her for making every family gathering a competition I never signed up for.

I told Mark to keep it quiet for now. I wanted to fly home, meet him in person, go over everything before anyone else got wind of it. He agreed.

I finished packing and stopped by my commanding officer’s office to tell him I was taking personal leave. He didn’t ask questions. He could read it on my face that it wasn’t military business.

The next morning, I was at Reagan National before the sun came up. The flight to Charleston was quick, but my mind didn’t slow down. I kept going over logistics. I’d have to meet with Mark at his office downtown. I’d need to check the house on the river, see what condition it was in, and I’d have to dodge Natalie like she was a heat-seeking missile.

Charleston greeted me with warm air and that mix of salt and marsh you don’t smell anywhere else. I picked up a rental car and headed toward my condo in the historic district. It’s small, but enough for me, and it’s in a quiet building where nobody cares about my job or asks too many questions. Perfect for keeping a low profile.

I dropped my bags, changed into jeans and a T-shirt, and called Mark. He set our meeting for the following afternoon. That gave me the rest of the day to get groceries and maybe go for a run to shake off the travel.

While I was in the checkout line at the market, my phone lit up with Natalie’s name. I considered ignoring it, but I answered.

“Back in town?” she asked. No hello.

“For a bit,” I said.

“You could have told me.”

“It was short notice. I’ve got some personal stuff to handle.”

That was all it took for her tone to sharpen.

“What kind of personal stuff?”

“The kind that’s personal,” I said, and ended the call before she could dig any deeper.

By evening, I was unpacked, my fridge was stocked, and I’d double-checked the locks. Old habit.

I sat on the couch with my laptop, looking at my calendar. The meeting with Mark was at three tomorrow. I could swing by the river house in the morning, take a quick look. Aunt Evelyn hadn’t lived there in years, but she kept it maintained. I’d only been there twice as a kid. I remembered the wide porch and the dock that went straight into the water.

Around nine that night, I got a text from a friend at the base.

Heard you’re back in Charleston. Beer soon?

I told him, Maybe next week.

For illustrative purposes only

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