Chapter 12 - Echoes from St. Louis
The flight to St. Louis was short, cold, and entirely devoid of nostalgia. As the commercial jet touched down at Lambert International Airport, the gray autumn rain mirrored the heavy knot in my chest. I hadn't planned on returning home so soon, especially not wearing a bespoke charcoal wool suit that commanded immediate respect, but the financial discrepancy flagged on my terminal left me no choice. My father’s real estate holdings were being liquidated to satisfy federal restitution orders, yet an underground ledger indicated a massive offshore transfer had cleared just forty-eight hours prior.
I rented a modest sedan and drove through the familiar, tree-lined suburbs where I had grown up feeling like an invisible ghost. When I pulled up to our family home, the illusion of suburban perfection had completely shattered. Yellow caution tape fluttered in the damp wind across the front porch. The manicured lawn was overgrown, and a notice of foreclosure was tacked securely to the double front doors.
As I stepped out of the car, the front door of the neighboring house creaked open. An elderly neighbor peered out from behind her curtains, watching me with cautious curiosity. I ignored her and walked up the cracked concrete steps, pulling out my credential wallet. Before I could reach for the foreclosure notice, the side door of my parents' house clicked open.
My mother stepped out, looking ten years older than she had on Sophia's disastrous birthday dinner. Her hair was unstyled, her designer silk blouse replaced by a faded cardigan. When she saw me standing on the porch, she froze, her breath catching in the damp air.
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"Lena," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Thank God you're here. We didn't know who else to call."
I looked at her without emotion, keeping my posture rigid. "I'm not here to rescue you, Mom. I'm here because federal monitors flagged an unauthorized transaction moving through your frozen accounts. Where is Dad?"
