Chapter 5 - THE FIRE THAT WASN'T AN ACCIDENT
The fire started at 3:41 a.m.
I woke to the smell of smoke.
For one terrible second, I didn't know where I was.
Then the alarm began screaming.
My father burst into my room.
“Get up!”
I grabbed my stomach.
“What happened?”
“Fire.”
The hallway was already filling with smoke.
Dad pulled me toward the stairs.
“Stay behind me.”
The smoke grew thicker.
My lungs burned.
I coughed.
The baby kicked violently.
“Dad!”
“I've got you.”
We reached the front door.
It wouldn't open.
Dad tried the handle.
Locked.
He broke the glass with his elbow.
Cold air rushed inside.
He helped me out.
We stumbled into the yard.
The house behind us was burning.
I turned toward the windows.
My mother's photographs.
The financial records.
Everything was inside.
My father grabbed my shoulders.
“Don't go back.”
“I can't lose those documents.”
“Amelia!”
A fire truck screamed into the driveway.
Firefighters jumped out.
I recognized one of them immediately.
Noah.
His eyes found me.
Then he saw the flames.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He looked at my father.
“Get her away from the house.”
My father nodded.
Noah turned toward the flames.
Then he stopped.
“Wait.”
He looked at me.
“Did anyone know you were keeping records here?”
I stared at him.
“Rebecca.”
“Who else?”
I thought.
“Ethan.”
Noah's expression darkened.
The fire burned for nearly an hour.
By dawn, my father's house was destroyed.
The official report said electrical failure.
Noah disagreed.
He came to me privately.
“The fire started in two separate places.”
I stared at him.
“Two?”
“Living room and basement.”
“That means…”
“Someone set it.”
My hands went cold.
“Can you prove it?”
“Not yet.”
He handed me a small plastic bag.
Inside was a melted piece of metal.
“What is that?”
“Part of a timing device.”
I stared at it.
“Someone wanted the house empty.”
“Why?”
Noah looked at me.
“Because they knew you would leave.”
I felt sick.
My phone rang.
Ethan.
I answered.
“What?”
His voice was tense.
“I heard about the fire.”
“Who told you?”
“Your father.”
“No, he didn't.”
Silence.
I understood.
Ethan had been watching.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I'm coming to see you.”
“No.”
“Amelia.”
“You don't get to come here.”
“I just want to make sure you're safe.”
I looked at the burning remains of my father's house.
“You knew where I was.”
He said nothing.
“You knew I was staying here.”
“Amelia—”
“How?”
Another silence.
Then he said:
“I still have people who care about you.”
I laughed.
“That's not what I asked.”
He hung up.
Noah had been standing nearby.
He had heard everything.
“Your husband is lying.”
I looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because he sounded relieved.”
I stared at him.
Noah continued.
“Not worried.”
I looked back at the fire.
The truth was becoming impossible to ignore.
Ethan had known where I was.
Someone had tried to burn the house.
And my husband had called me minutes later.
That afternoon, Claire appeared.
She was wearing sunglasses.
She looked terrified.
My father immediately moved between us.
Claire stopped.
“I didn't come to hurt her.”
Dad's voice was cold.
“Then why did you come?”
Claire removed her sunglasses.
There were bruises beneath one eye.
My heart tightened.
“Who did that?”
She looked at me.
“My father.”
Silence.
“He knows I talked to you.”
I stepped forward.
“Why?”
“Because I took something.”
“What?”
Claire reached into her purse.
She pulled out a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother.
Martin Carter.
And Ethan.
All standing together.
But the photograph had been taken twenty years ago.
I stared at Ethan's younger face.
He had been there.
My mother had known him.
My father had never mentioned it.
I looked at Claire.
“What is this?”
May you like
She whispered:
“The reason your mother died.”
