The night eighteen years ago when her mother had come into her bedroom and told her that Moses was gone.

Tessa had never been allowed to ask enough questions.

She had been fourteen.

Adults had whispered.

Doors had closed.

Her mother had cried in the kitchen.

And then life had moved forward without explaining itself.

Until now.

“Why were you there?”

Damian's expression hardened.

“Because your grandfather asked me to come.”

The figure behind the kitchen door moved.

Tessa's eyes flicked toward it.

Damian saw the movement.

“So did someone else.”

Tessa looked back at him.

“Who?”

Damian's answer never came.

Her phone vibrated again.

One final message.

ASK VOSS WHAT HE DID.

Tessa looked at the screen.

Then at Damian.

His face had gone completely still.

The kitchen door slammed open.

Someone ran.

Chairs scraped across the dining room floor.

A glass shattered.

Damian moved toward Tessa at once, but she stepped backward, clutching the spoon.

For nineteen months, she had felt invisible inside Vesper.

Now every person in the restaurant seemed to have a reason to watch her.

Marco was standing near the kitchen entrance.

Laurent was pale.

One of the cooks had disappeared.

The maître d' had locked the front doors.

And Damian Voss, the man everyone feared, looked at Tessa as though her answer could determine what happened next.

“You need to leave,” he said.

Tessa shook her head.

“Not until you tell me the truth.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You don't know what you're asking.”

“Yes, I do.”

Her voice surprised even her.

It didn't shake.

“What did you do to my grandfather?”

Damian stared at her.

Then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and removed a small folded photograph.

He held it out.

Tessa didn't take it at first.

Then she did.

The photograph was old.

Faded.

Two men stood outside Rowe's House.

One was Moses.

The other was much younger.

But unmistakable.

Damian Voss.

Tessa looked at the date written on the back.

The year before her grandfather died.

Below it were four words in Moses's handwriting.

Trust no one inside.

Tessa looked up.

Damian's eyes were on the kitchen.

A second later, the lights went out.

The restaurant disappeared into darkness.

Someone screamed.

Tessa felt a hand reach for her wrist.

She pulled away.

The old spoon slipped from her fingers and struck the floor.

A sharp metallic sound echoed through the darkness.

Then she heard a voice directly beside her.

“You should have given it back.”

The lights returned.

The hand was gone.

So was the spoon.

Tessa looked down at the empty floor.

Across the room, Damian stood motionless.

Marco was gone.

And somewhere inside the locked restaurant, someone was carrying the one object that might finally explain why her grandfather died.

Tessa looked at Damian.

He looked back.

Neither of them spoke.

They didn't need to.

The game had already begun.

And this time, Tessa understood one thing with terrifying clarity:

Whatever had happened eighteen years ago was never finished.

It had only been waiting for her to come home.