Thomas Reed lowered his salute first.
His voice remained calm, but every syllable carried unquestionable authority.
"Commander Celeste Reed."
The surname struck Arthur harder than a physical blow.
Reed?
Not Whitmore?
Not anymore.
Thomas continued.
"Your transportation has arrived."
Celeste nodded once.
"Thank you, Admiral."
No bitterness.
No triumph.
She did not glance toward her family.
She did not search Arthur's face for regret.
She simply turned toward the ballroom doors.
As she walked away, the officers remained standing.
Not one lowered their salute until she passed.
The silence became unbearable.
Arthur finally found his voice.
"Celeste!"
She paused.
Only for a second.
Hope flared inside Arthur.
She'll turn around.
She'll explain.
She has to.
Instead, she spoke without looking back.
"You stopped being my commanding voice a long time ago, Mr. Whitmore."
Mr. Whitmore.
Not Father.
Not Dad.
Just the surname of a stranger.
Then she continued walking.