Chapter 2: What the Fire Left Behind
**— Part 2 —**
Tessa turned around anyway.
A young dishwasher named Ciro stood in the doorway.
Nineteen years old.
Hands still wet.
His face was the color of someone who had just seen something they weren't supposed to see.
"Who sent you?" Tessa asked.
He shook his head.
"I can't say."
"Ciro."
"They're watching the corridor right now, Tessa.
Both of them."
She looked past him.
The kitchen was still lit.
Marco stood near the pass, pretending to check a ticket.
Laurent was beside him.
Neither one was looking at her directly.
Both of them were absolutely looking at her.
Her phone buzzed again.
A second photo.
Same street.
Same angle.
But this time her mother was facing the camera.
Ruth wasn't looking at her phone.
She wasn't walking.
She was standing completely still.
Like someone had told her to wait there.
Tessa's chest tightened.
She typed back: *Who are you?*
Three dots appeared.
Then stopped.
Then appeared again.
The reply was four words.
*Ask Marco about Moses.*
Tessa looked up.
Marco had moved.
He was no longer at the pass.
He was standing six feet away, watching her read the message.
His expression wasn't angry.
It was afraid.
"You already know, don't you," Tessa said quietly.
"You've always known."
Marco's jaw worked.
He glanced once toward Laurent.
Then back at her.
"Your grandfather didn't lose that spoon, Tessa."
He swallowed hard.
"It was taken from him.
The same night Rowe's House b*rned down."
---
What really happened to Moses Rowe — and why has it been buried for eighteen years?
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The full truth is darker than anyone in that kitchen wants Tessa to know.
Click the link below to read the full story.
