Over the next two days, agents from the SEC arrive and knock on the door, but when their patience runs out, they bring in state troopers with a warrant to search the property. When they burst through the door and finish checking the bottom floor, the agents and troopers notice a faint foul odor coming from the second floor.

By the time they reach the master bedroom door, the state troopers call for assistance from the Medical Examiner's office. The bodies are loaded and taken away to the morgue. The agents from the SEC look into the information on the Morgan's and discover they have a son and daughter. An agent tries to contact their youngest still in Europe, but they send an agent to meet with their son, Chase.

Located in the Langley, Virginia office of the Department of Homeland Security, Chase Morgan is a cybersecurity analyst. He's busy working on a federal case involving a potential pedophile luring children in the New York area with files, photos, and video sent in from the Special Victims Unit. When he finishes an email so the detective on the case, Chase gets to his feet after noticing the Deputy Director by his workstation. On his feet, Chase stands six feet tall with ash-blond hair styled short with hair gel holding it combed to one side and a budding beard that stops just below a mole on his lower right cheek.

"Sir. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Chase asks in his deep voice.

"I need to speak to you privately in my office, now, Agent Morgan," Deputy Director Gibbs says.

Chase marches down the hallway into an elevator to the fourth floor to the Deputy Director's office. Settled in the chair in front of the desk, Chase interlaces his fingers, prepared for a lecture.

"Deputy Director."

"Agent Morgan," Director Gibbs pauses, "I have some news to share with you. I had a phone call come in from the New York State Troopers. Your parents' estate is under investigation for an apparent murder-suicide."

Chase sits there, trying not to react drastically. The news of his parents being dead strikes him deeply. Deputy Director Gibbs sees the glare in Chase's eyes and gets to his feet to sit on the edge of his desk facing Agent Morgan.

"If there's anything I can do, then please say it. The department policy gives you ten business days off. Take them and get your parents' affairs in order. I know you weren't too close to your father, but your mother, I know you both talked every day. Words can't express how sorry I am for your loss. So, go on home and pack; I will handle your time today and start your bereavement tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, sir. I know I have much to do, and yeah, much to do," Chase mutters as he stumbles to his feet.

Gibbs uses his speed to keep Chase from landing on the floor. Deputy Director Gibbs is the same height as Chase and around the same weight, but Gibbs has a little more lean muscle to his build to accompany dark brown hair, and his hazel eyes hide behind a pair of thin square reading glasses.

Chase finds his balance and takes his leave from work. Able to gather his belongings, Chase prepares to drive from Virginia to his parents' home. Once he arrives and sees the police tape around the front door, Chase slowly puts his Ford Crown Victoria in Park and walks inside. Once he walks into the office and sees his father's laptop and computers missing, he knows there must have been an investigation from the SEC and other agencies.

"What did you do, dad? Something isn't adding up, but I will do my best to find out." Chase says to himself and takes out his phone.

Calling his sister, Chase stands there with a hand in the pocket of his trenchcoat. After the voicemail greeting plays, Chase leaves a message.

"Naomi, it's Chase; I don't know where you are or what you're going, but you need to call me back. Mom and Dad are dead, and I need you here to help me with the arrangements. So get out of your trust fund and get your spoiled ass home pronto!"

Chase ends the call after confirming his message and shoves his phone back into his pocket, where it doesn't stay long when a call comes in.

"Hey, Mr. Issac, I was planning on calling you after I got all the arrangements made for mom and dad. What can I do for you, sir?"

"I wish this under better circumstances Chase, but you need to come by my office first thing in the morning. Some things are going on that effect you and Noami. No joke, get here at 9 AM, and I can't say that I look forward to this conversation."

It takes a moment for it to register with Chase. The tone in Mr. Issac's voice leaves him feeling rattled as a knot begins to tighten his Chases' stomach.

"Are you still there?" Mr. Issac asks.

"Yes, sir, my apologies. I will be there on time at 9 AM tomorrow. But, sorry again, I need to focus on my task right now." Chase says in a nervous tone.

"I understand. I will see you then; bye, Chase."

Chase hits the end call button and goes wandering around the house, trying to piece everything together. The chalk outline in his parents' bedroom hits him like a sack of potatoes. Chase goes over where his mother's body was found, and he falls to his knees crying. Nearly ten minutes later, Chase's grieving is interrupted when a police officer enters the bedroom.

"Sir. You can't be here. This is an official crime scene." The African American female officer states.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, this is my parents' house, and I'm DHS, Crysersecurity division," Chase explains and gets to his feet to slowly reach for his badge.

"Right now, that doesn't matter, sir. I'm going to have to ask you to leave the property. Once the detectives gather what they need, then you can enter. I'll escort you out this time, but if I catch you here again, I will arrest you."

Chase offers no resistance and allows the police officer to take him back down to his sedan and finds a cheap motel away from the house to relax the best he can for the evening. While he munches on some overpriced and greasy McDonald's food, he continues to try to get in contact with Noami.

By the time Chase is ready to call it a night, he flips the TV to the national news network.

"This is Mary Coulette with American National News Network. The situation over the global economy continues to worsen by the hour right now. The European Union has declared bankruptcy. China's economy has crashed, and their banks have all been trying to figure out how to keep businesses afloat until their market corrects. Things here in America are bleak. Banks have closed down, businesses are in default, and the country's credit rating has taken another blow, being degraded again. Student loans have crippled those who were not in default as payment ballooned more than three hundred percent in the last few days. Homes are in danger of immediate foreclosure, and rumors of mass government layoffs are the topic of the day throughout all of Washington DC. In other news, the vaccine trials for a newer and more effective treatment of the flu since there has been an outbreak in more than eighty countries. More details after the commercial break."

All Chase can do is shake his head and turns off the TV. Chase does his best to fall asleep with the covers thrown over his body, but something keeps nagging at him all night.

The next morning when he gets cleaned up to meet up with the family attorney, Chase can't shake the sensation that he's about to get royally screwed over somehow. Chase takes some deep breaths to relax in his car and makes his way over to the attorney's office. Barely able to collect his thoughts, Chase pulls himself from the car and walks inside, and gets escorted to a conference room down the hall.

"Good morning Mr. Morgan. The sun is shining, and I have some news for you and Naomi. But, of course, that is whenever either one of us can get in contact with her. So let's get started, shall we?"

"Whenever you're ready, Mason."

With the flip of the folder, the fifty-five-year-old attorney takes a deep breath with a set of papers in his wrinkled hands.

"Events like this are never easy to share with clients. I turned in the paperwork to the funeral home. Your parents will be cremated, and their ashes will be placed in their plots. From what I understand, their bodies had decomposed too far for a proper funeral. On that note, I am deeply sorry that you won't traditionally say goodbye. However, last year the IRS and SEC got together and restructured some loopholes. I hate to share this with you, but with the banks going under and the suspicion of bad business practices, embezzling, tax fraud, and back owed taxes, the IRS has seized your parents' accounts, retirements, stocks, and everything else. You will get ten percent of your trust fund since it has your name on it, but the Feds are looking for restitution, and they're taking almost everything from you and Naomi." Mr. Issac states while Chase reads over the paperwork.

"They can't do this to us. I mean, yes, take my parents' accounts to pay what they owe and stole from others. If Naomi loses what she has left, she might not get home from Europe. I'm honestly starting to worry about her."

Mr. Issac folds his hands together with his elbows resting on the edge of the table. The glare in his eyes says there's more to share with Chase.

"Well, to put a damper on things, they're also taking the house and going to auction it off to cover other balances too. Your dad's car is being seized, but in a bit of good news, your mother's Bentley is begin left untouched. You can retrieve that from the house, but only with a police officer escorting you through the house and no more searching the property. The detectives on the case were furious when they heard you were inside the house. Chase, I get that you want answers. I do too. I was your parents' attorney for many, many years, and I miss them as you do, but you can't go and do anything stupid. It's a shame that they're already on their way to the furnace. The world is changing, and things are getting worse, and that protection behind a federal badge won't save you from everything." Mr. Issac rambles with his hands beginning to tremble.

All Chase can do is dip his head before he reaches for a tissue. Only being able to access ten percent of his trust fund gives him some breathing room, but not much since his career doesn't allow a lavish lifestyle.

By the time the meeting wraps up and the paperwork is settled, Chase finds himself heading back to the house to look over his mother's antique car. It's been placed outside where Chase can retrieve the key. Once he finishes looking over the car, Chase calls to find a hauling company to take his mother's car to his apartment back in Virginia. The day comes to an early end with a bottle of Smirnoff Vodka and tacos from a local restaurant.

Early the next morning, Chase gathers his things and heads back to his apartment after heading back to his parents' attorney's office to pick up the cashier check to place in his account. But, unfortunately, it isn't long when he walks through the door that his phone vibrates.

"Hi Director, sir. I will be back in the office tomorrow," Chase says, trying to sound enthused about returning to work.

"That sounds good, Agent Morgan. When you arrive, report to Human Resources. They will need to talk to you about changes coming to the agency."

"Yes, sir."

"Until then, have a good day Agent Morgan. Again, my apologies for the passing of your parents."

The line goes dead, and Chase's phone beeps. The sensation that settles in the pit of his stomach churns harder as the day goes on, even while he's preparing dinner for a special lady friend, a near six-foot, bleach blond with blue-colored contacts and a tanning bed body, Bambi Snow.

Chase has water boiling for pasta on the stove and a saucepan simmering with some of his mother's favorite seasonings with garlic knots slowly rising in the oven. Finally, add in a bottle of white wine chilled in the wine cooler under the microwave.

To further enhance the spirit of the evening, Chase has the soft glow of a Scentsy warmer with the scent of wild berries wafting in the apartment air.

When a knock emanates from the door, Chase calls out, "it's open, come on inside, Bambi."

The door pushed open, and the allure of dinner and the scents of fresh wild berries snatches Bambi, and she finds herself resting comfortably on the couch.

"How was your trip?" Bambi calls out in a soft tone.

"Lousy, I honestly can't believe how much power the IRS and SEC hold now. I mean, I have some money left, but it's still not enough to cover the price of a home or anything worth splurging. By the time I pay taxes, settle some credit card debt, get my mother's old car serviced, and such, I have just enough to keep me comfortable to ride out this economic down term." Chase replies in a raspy voice with his stomach still tied in knots.

All Bambi does is shrug, but Chase is focused on dinner and doesn't see the nonchalant gesture. By the time food is ready and prepared on a plate, Bambi feels bored with the soft jazz music in the background.

"Can I please get some good mood music, please? Like, how about some classic Brittney or some kick-ass new shit from Nikki Minaj? What is it with you and liking older people's garbage? It's bad that you like talk radio and even, like ew, regular old-fashioned radio stations."

Bambi's irritation of Chase's simpler choices in life is why she uses him as a 'boy toy.' The two of them met at a mutual friend's cookout and hooked up not long after. Bambi even admits that she won't be faithful to one guy, and Chase isn't exactly ready to try to settle down until his career is a certain aspect of his life.

"Yeah, give me a moment to get the Pop Music station loaded. I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't thinking and wanted to relax." Chase calls out before he changes the station on his Pandora app and takes Bambi her food.

"Thanks, handsome. Food looks alright, and I hope you didn't buy that cheap ass wine that you had last night I was here. I'm a picky bitch, and unless it's Dom Perignon, it doesn't belong in my mouth. I need to be a well-kept woman."

Feeling aggravated, Chase brings the bottle of Lail Georgia Sauvignon Blanc. The expression on Bambi's face screams volumes of disgust and disappointment. Chase refuses to pay the prices Bambi wants to be spent for her taste, and his patience is quickly running out.

"Look, Bambi, I get you have to have these certain tastes, but I'm not dropping a couple of hundred dollars on something that tastes the same as what I like at a third of the cost."

Blown away at his response, Bambi drops her mouth open a bit and sets her plate down on the coffee table.

"Well, if you refuse to sustain my taste, I can take the hint. You're cute, but you ain't all that and a bag of chips. So, in the words of our generation, go suck a tit." Bambi says and gets to her feet, walking out of the apartment.

"Whatever, don't come back!" Chase shouts, ready to slam his plate through the glass coffee table.

Frustrated and left feeling ashamed that his life has come down to work and an occasional hookup, Chase gets up to change the music station to Savage Garden to help his downward emotions. After about an hour of singing some of his favorite early 2000s songs, Chase tries again to contact his sister, but he leaves another voice mail that goes unanswered.

"I swear if I had been half that selfish and conceded at her age, mom and dad would have disowned me," Chase says to himself.

Around eleven o'clock, Chase retires to his bedroom. Under the lilac comforter and dark gray covers, he turns on the local news.

"Earlier today, the White House sent out memos that more furloughs are on the way. Thus far, roughly sixty percent of forest and national park rangers have been laid off, with the next cuts expected to strike at federal agencies. The economic downturn continues to spiral out of control. Russia saw a layoff of more than eighty percent of oil workers. The expected price of oil was driven up by the lack of workers at refineries across the world. The expected stock price jumped today from one hundred fifty dollars to just under five hundred dollars per barrel. More after Wally Davidson report on sports and the fallout from the lack of ticket sales."

Chase's stomach begins to twist into knots again. The sensation that something is about to happen nearly sends him running for the toilet to puke. But the fear of losing his job, with something that might be wrong since Naomi can't be reached.

That fear keeps him from sleeping peacefully that night as Chase toss and turns. The covers barely on the bed as the A/C cools the apartment, and a cold sweat soaks the blanket and covers until the alarm blares at five-thirty.

"Fuck."

Chase gets to his feet and wipes his forehead, and notices how drenched his bed is when he stops at the closet to get a suit.

"Talk about one helluva night! Oh well, time to get cleaned up and get to the office."

Under the piping hot water, Chase stands with his back under the shower after washing his body with his eyes shut. A few deep breaths help him to settle his nerves and think about the day. The first thing to tackle is the meeting with Human Resources. Then Chase will use whatever resources he can in Spain to find his sister and rip her a new ass for dodging everything. The last thing on Chase's mind is what to do for dinner and how to make up for how Bambi treated him and fix his online profile to find a date.

Down in his parking spot, Chase prepares to pull out, but before he can drop his work car in Drive, the hauling company arrives to drop off his mother's old Bentley.

"Where ya want it?" The driver calls out the windows and yells.

"Place it where I am after I pull out. I'll park and get the key from you."

Chase pulls out and parks a few feet from his parking spot and waits as the hunter-green Bentley is placed in its new spot.

"There you go, pal. Enjoy the car!" The driver calls out, then gets back in the truck and vanishes.

Exhaling, Chase puts the shifter back in Drive and makes his way to work, almost running behind. Chase clocks in with his badge and walks down the hallway to the waiting area inside Human Resources. A well-known analyst is in one of the offices receiving their layoff papers from what he can hear.

"I've been here more than fifteen years, and you sorry rat ass bastards can't even offer me a pay cut so I can ride this bitch out and get my retirement!"

Silence falls inside the office, and before Chase can hear the end of the argument, he's called into another office.

"Agent Morgan. Please step into my office." A middle-aged male calls out with a beer belly dropped over his belt with a dull white dress shirt that barely keeps it from being exposed.

With a hard gulp and his heart beating like it's about to leap from his chest, Chase pushes his body from the chair. It takes about thirty seconds when he walks into the office, and things begin to feel heavy.

"Let's see, Agent Chase Morgan, top of your class from the academy, I see. You graduated from NYU, also top of your class there. Private schools all of your life, your father is listed as recently deceased, so is your mother. I have you here as a pay grade of G14, and you've been here a few years." The Human Resources representative states and hums while he thumbs through the rest of the file, "okay, I think I have everything in order. Let's have a little chat."

"Yes, sir."

There's a brief pause between the two men.

"Are you aware that things around the country, well, the world honestly, are falling apart?" The Human Resources begins.

"Yes, sir."

"Then you know that budgets are being slashed everywhere, and this includes every United Stated federal agency. You're on the list of candidates to lay off right now, but the decision hasn't been made final yet. This meeting is a preliminary one to make you aware that you are subject to immediate termination at any time in the future. The good news is that you are not being fired and will be subject to be brought back to any federal agency. If and when you are laid off and called back, one option you have is to report to the FBI, NSA, Capitol Police, or even back here for DHS. Now that you are aware of what can potentially happen, do you have any questions for me?"

All Chase can do is shake his head no. From the time he was recruited and attended the training academy, he was informed not to ask too many questions to keep himself off the radar.

"Okay, keep your email open, and your phone charged up because you will be notified by text and email. We will allow you forty-eight hours to clear out your work area. That is all Agent Morgan, good day."

"Good day, sir," Chase says and makes a hasty exit.

Up at his desk, Chase breathes a bit of relief. Once his computer boots up, Chase begins using the resources he has at Interpol to figure out anything on his missing sister. In the meantime leading up to lunch, Chase dives into working on new firewalls and writing a report about the last investigation he was a part of with the detectives in New York.

The investigation can be passed to the New York District Attorney's Office, and Chase can turn his focus to an email from his colleague from Interpol.

Chase reads the email silently, Hey Chase, it's been a while, but yeah, I searched for your sister's phone, and I got a call out to my agents out nearby. When she arrives there, I will make sure she calls you. Until then, caretake, George Atwell.

Now that his nerves begin to settle down, Chase leans back in his chair.

It isn't until he walks down to the cafeteria that Chase receives a phone call from an international number.

"Chase! I've gotten your messages. Unfortunately, my phone got damaged by a fountain. I can hear on it, but messages and notifications don't come in, and I can't talk on it. Oh my God, mom and dad are dead! I will be home soon!" Naomi tells her brother.

"I've handled it all, and the house isn't ours anymore. The bank took it, and everything else is gone. All that I was allowed to keep was mom's car. So whatever you have left from your trust fund, keep it. I didn't get much from mine, and I don't know what you have left to come home to, but we're on our own."

Naomi's attitude changes instantly.

"I want mommy's car! If I lost my Beamer, then I am entitled to her car! It's only fair!"

"The hell you say! I'm the one who had to deal with everything while you were off backing packing through Europe. I never asked mom or dad, for anything and I was closer to mom than you were. So I'm keeping it, and if you have a problem with that, then I will burn it to the ground." Chase threatens with his voice low to avoid attention.

"Fuck you! I'm out then. My friend Kiera can get us hooked up with this Pharma Rep she met. To hell with coming home to nothing, bye." The line goes dead, and Chase is left standing in the middle of the hallway a few feet from the cafeteria doors.

While Chase is eating lunch alone in a cafeteria that's barely a quarter way full, he notices a young lady with a near-perfect hourglass figure, medium brown hair down over her shoulder that reaches her large breast. The woman's full pouty lips and sable brown eyes. At first, Chase is caught off guard by her beauty, but before she catches him staring at her, he shifts his head to his phone to pretend to look at something.

Chase heads back to his desk, finishing with the light lunch, where he sees the Human Resources employee waiting for him with two armed security officers. When they notice him stopped at the door, they approach.

"Agent Morgan, I'm afraid that I have some news to share. It is my unpleasant duty to inform you that your services are no longer required as of today. Please pack your belongings with the box provided on your desk. You will be escorted off the grounds by security. If you have an agency vehicle, please tell me now to arrange an Uber to give you a ride home that the agency will cover on your behalf. Thank you for your short time in the service of a grateful country."

A look of defeat comes across his face when he hands over his badge and ID. Chase goes to his desk to hand over the key to his car and pack up his desk. When he's finished packing, the guards escort him to the front of the building, and Chase takes the Uber back to his apartment, where he drops the contents from his desk off and takes his mother's car out for one last night at the tavern where everyone who's been laid off heads for one last night at a place they use to unwind.