Chapter 4 - THE GHOST FROM FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
The room smelled like gunpowder.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Not Ronan.
Not Tessa.
Not the person hiding in the darkness.
Then Ronan raised his weapon.
“Show yourself.”
A quiet laugh came from the corner.
A cold, familiar laugh.
“You always did sound like your father.”
Ronan’s grip tightened.
That voice.
He knew that voice.
But it was impossible.
The man speaking should have been buried fourteen years ago.
“Come out,” Ronan said.
The figure stepped slowly into the emergency lighting.
Tessa’s breath caught.
The man was older.
Thinner.
A scar ran across the left side of his face.
But Ronan knew him.
Because some people leave scars on your memory that never disappear.
“Marcus.”
The name came out like a warning.
Marcus Vale smiled.
“Still remember me.”
Ronan stared.
“You died.”
Marcus looked around the room.
“Funny thing about death.”
He walked closer.
“People believe whatever story they’re told.”
Tessa looked between them.
She had no idea who this man was.
But she understood one thing.
Ronan Callahan was afraid.
Not angry.
Not annoyed.
Afraid.
And that scared her more than the gunshots.
“You were there,” Ronan whispered.
Marcus stopped.
“For your mother?”
Silence.
Tessa felt the temperature in the room drop.
Ronan lowered his weapon slightly.
“You know what happened that night.”
Marcus smiled.
“I know more than you think.”
Before Ronan could respond, security rushed through the door.
“Mr. Callahan!”
The moment was gone.
Marcus disappeared.
Not through the door.
Not through the window.
Somehow, he was gone.
Security searched every corner.
Nothing.
No weapon.
No footprints.
No sign anyone had been there.
Except one thing.
On the table where Ronan’s bowl had been sitting was a small piece of paper.
Ronan picked it up.
His face changed.
Tessa noticed.
“What does it say?”
He didn’t answer.
“Mr. Callahan?”
Slowly, Ronan handed her the note.
Three words.
Written in black ink.
ASK THE WAITER.
Tessa frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Ronan looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
But he did.
Because fourteen years ago, the night his mother died, there was one person who disappeared.
One person who was never questioned.
The waiter who served their final dinner.
The next morning, Beaumont House was surrounded by rumors.
Employees whispered.
Customers canceled reservations.
News reporters waited outside.
Nobody knew exactly what happened.
But everyone knew one thing.
Someone tried to kill Ronan Callahan.
And somehow, a waitress was standing in the middle of it.
Tessa arrived for work expecting to be fired.
Instead, Arthur Fletcher called her into his office.
She stood quietly.
Arthur looked exhausted.
“You saved his life.”
Tessa shook her head.
“I made soup.”
“No.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“You stopped something worse.”
She looked confused.
“What are you talking about?”
Arthur opened a drawer.
Inside was an old photograph.
He placed it on the desk.
Tessa picked it up.
Her face changed.
It was a picture of Beaumont House fourteen years earlier.
A younger Ronan.
His mother.
And standing behind them…
Eda Boudreaux.
Tessa froze.
“She worked here?”
Arthur nodded.
“Everyone thought she was just a kitchen assistant.”
Tessa stared.
“She never told me.”
“Because she didn’t want you involved.”
“Why?”
Arthur looked toward the window.
“Because she knew someone was still looking for that recipe.”
Tessa felt a chill.
“What recipe?”
Arthur didn’t answer.
Instead, he asked:
“Did Eda ever tell you why she left Beaumont House?”
Tessa shook her head.
“She just said some kitchens were more dangerous than they looked.”
Arthur sighed.
“Now you understand.”
Before Tessa could respond, her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice whispered:
“Stop asking questions.”
Tessa froze.
“Who is this?”
“You don’t know what you’re holding.”
“What are you talking about?”
The voice became colder.
“That notebook belonged to a dead woman.”
A pause.
“And it should have stayed buried with her.”
The call ended.
Tessa slowly lowered the phone.
Arthur saw her expression.
“What happened?”
She looked at him.
“Someone knows about Eda’s notebook.”
And somewhere across the city…
May you like
someone smiled.
Because the waitress had finally started looking in the right direction.
