Chapter 68 - Goodbyes Under Autumn Skies
The drive back to the brick colonial house felt shorter than it should have. The golden afternoon light was beginning to stretch across the manicured lawn as I pulled my SUV into the gravel driveway and cut the engine.
My father was still sitting in his wooden rocking chair on the front porch, a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he thumbed through a stack of local gardening catalogs. When my car door shut, he looked up over the rims of his glasses, folding the catalog in half and setting it down on the side table.
As I walked up the wooden steps, I could see the subtle shift in his expression—the quiet, experienced intuition of a man who had raised an operative and knew the exact look of a son who was about to answer a call he couldn't ignore.
“You didn't finish your breakfast at the diner, did you?” my father asked softly, taking off his glasses and folding them neatly into their leather case.
I stopped at the top of the porch steps, leaning against the wooden railing. “A federal attaché dropped by, Dad. A new syndicate—the Iron Veil—is trying to spin up a global financial control grid. If we don't shut them down in Geneva, everything we've built here won't matter.”
My father let out a long, slow breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment as the autumn wind rustled the leaves around us. There was no anger in his face, only a profound, heavy sorrow tempered by unyielding pride.
“I was hoping we’d have until winter, son,” he murmured, standing up from his rocking chair and walking over to place a warm, heavy hand on my shoulder. “I was hoping you could help me win the zoning battle over Mr. Henderson's gazebo.”
“Tell Henderson he wins the pavilion dispute,” I smiled faintly, pulling my father into a firm embrace. “Tell him he can build his gazebo wherever he wants.”
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“He’ll make it twice as tall just to spite me,” my father laughed quietly against my shoulder, holding me tight before pulling back and looking deeply into my eyes. “You come back home when this is finished, Marcus. Do you hear me? The porch will be waiting.”
“I’ll be back, Dad,” I promised, stepping off the porch and walking back to my SUV. “I always come back.”
