“Who was the buyer?”

“Some investment group,” Dad said, checking his phone. “Meridian Property Holdings LLC. They’re flipping luxury properties in Spring Valley. Probably going to gut renovate and resell for $4 million. Smart investors.”

“You sold to a property flipper,” I said quietly.

“We sold to the highest bidder,” Dad corrected. “That’s how capitalism works, Alexis. Perhaps if you’d spent less time on your mysterious consulting work and more time building actual wealth, you’d understand these concepts.”

Natalie stood and stretched.

“Anyway, crisis averted. That house was becoming an embarrassment. People kept asking why you had a $2.8 $8 million property sitting empty. Made the whole family look strange.”

“Can’t have that,” I murmured.

“No, we can’t,” Mom agreed, completely missing the sarcasm. “The Petanss have a reputation to maintain. Your father sits on three corporate boards. I chair the hospital auxiliary. Natalie’s on the museum council. We can’t have people thinking we have a daughter who doesn’t understand property management.”

“Of course not,” I said.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I glanced at the screen, and my pulse jumped.

Urgent security breach at Spring Valley Residence. Unauthorized sale detected. Diplomatic security responding. Call immediately. Director Morrison.

“Excuse me,” I said, standing. “I need to take this call.”

“Now?” Mom looked irritated. “Alexis, we’re in the middle of Christmas. Whatever work emergency you think you have can wait.”

“It can’t,” I said simply and left the room.

Inside the quiet guest bathroom, I called Director Morrison.

“Alexis,” he answered immediately. “We have a situation. Your parents sold the Spring Valley property to Meridian Property Holdings. The transaction was flagged in our monitoring system this morning.”

“I just found out,” I said quietly. “They told me at Christmas dinner, announced it like good news.”

“Do they know what that property is?” Morrison asked carefully.

“No,” I said. “They think it’s my personal residence that I never use. They don’t know it’s designated diplomatic property.”

“Jesus,” Morrison breathed. “Alexis, that property is registered with the State Department as a secured diplomatic residence. It’s part of your security protocol as deputy chief of mission. The designation is in the property records. Anyone doing proper due diligence would have seen it.”

“Meridian Property Holdings probably didn’t look that deep,” I said. “And my parents definitely didn’t. They saw an empty house and an opportunity to maximize returns.”

“The Diplomatic Security Service is already responding,” Morrison said. “They’re treating this as a potential security breach. The sale of diplomatic property without State Department authorization is a serious violation.”

“What happens now?”

“The sale is void,” Morrison said firmly. “Diplomatic property can’t be sold without federal clearance. The State Department will notify all parties, reverse the transaction, and investigate how this happened. Alexis, there could be criminal charges. Unauthorized sale of diplomatic property, fraud, potentially violations of the Foreign Missions Act.”

“Criminal charges,” I repeated quietly.

“Your parents sold federal property,” Morrison said. “Even if they didn’t know that’s what it was, ignorance isn’t a defense. They accessed property records, executed a sale, and took money. 20% of $2.8 million is $560,000. That’s more than half a million obtained through the sale of diplomatic property.”

“When will diplomatic security arrive?”

“They’re already on route to your parents’ address,” Morrison said. “E15 minutes. I’m sorry, Alexis. I know this is your family, but this is a federal matter now.”

“I understand,” I said. “Thank you for the heads up.”

I ended the call and studied my reflection.

Four years as deputy chief of mission at the US embassy in Vienna.

Four years quietly managing diplomatic relations, coordinating with foreign governments, overseeing security protocols, and keeping a low profile whenever I returned to Washington DC.

Whenever I was home, I stayed at my designated Spring Valley residence—the house my family believed was an unused investment.

It had been selected specifically for security: distance from major roads, defensible positioning, controlled access.