"Ethan," I said, stepping past Margaret until I was inches away from her younger son. I stood slightly taller than him, my shoulders square, my ribbons reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights. "You touched my daughter."
Ethan tried to puff out his chest, stepping back toward his brother. "She’s my wife! What happens between us is private—"
"You touched my daughter," I repeated, my voice dropping an octave into the register I used when commanding infantry battalions. "And you brought your mother and brother to hide your cowardice. You think Charlotte belongs to you because your grandfather built a bank and your uncle sits on the state supreme court."
"It does belong to us," Brandon sneered, stepping up beside his brother. "You're a civil servant with a title, Colonel. We own the firms that hire the lawyers who write the laws in this state. You step out of line, and I will have the Department of Defense reviewing your service record before sunrise."
"Try it," I said quietly.