My parents walked into federal court to save my golden-child brother from prison by framing me for treason. They expected me to rot in a federal cell. But then, the light caught the solid gold insignia shining on my crisp lapel. The family who abandoned me 10 years just realized they were staring at the government’s most lethal weapon…

Grant turned around.

He saw the sharp cut of my black suit. He saw the cold, unblinking focus in my eyes. And, pinned to my left lapel, resting directly over my heart, he saw the unmistakable blue and white ribbon of the Presidential Medal of Freedom. The government had quietly restored it to me forty-eight hours ago.

In that fraction of a second, watching my brother’s jaw slacken and his arrogant posture crumble, I saw a man finally understand what a ghost could do to the living.

I walked past them without breaking stride, ignoring the frantic whispers erupting from the gallery. I stepped up to the witness stand, placed my hand on the Bible, and swore the oath. My voice rang out, steady and clear, echoing against the high ceilings.

“Please state your name for the record,” Jenkins said, a slight, knowing smile on her lips.

“Lauren Moore,” I replied. “Federal Intelligence Consultant.”