Chapter 6 - The Showdown at Westchester
By noon, the winding driveway of the pale stone house was filled with three black municipal sedans.
Two federal compliance investigators stepped through the front doors, their heavy boots clicking loudly against the polished marble foyer.
Sabrina was guided out onto the front porch in handcuffs, her loud, theatrical screams echoing through the quiet Westchester neighborhood as her designer bags were loaded into the back of a state transport vehicle.
Graham stood by the stairs, his head in his hands, looking every bit the broken boy he had been before his father built the family empire.
"Mom," he whispered, looking up at Lorraine who was struggling to carry a small suitcase down the corridor. "Where are we supposed to go? The bank locked the personal savings."
"You can go wherever your salary as a common clerk can afford you, Graham," I said, standing near the bassinet where Micah was quietly playing with the wooden trains I had unpacked from my suitcase.
"Because after today, the Keller family name belongs entirely to the son you left crawling on the floor."
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Lorraine looked at me one final time, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line of pure, unfiltered venom.
But she didn't say a word; she knew that any additional statement would only add years to the federal conspiracy charges waiting for her downtown.
