Jonathan spoke into the phone without preamble, "Spill."


    Zion''s voice came through steady, stripped of excess emotion.


    "After the vi fire years ago, the first specialized responders apart from local fire and police—were from a city-level ident review unit.


    "Their lead investigator at the time was a man named Hanston. He retired years ago and relocated out of state to be closer to his children. Our team recently managed to track him down. He avoided us at first, but persistence paid off. Eventually, he shared something he never forgot."


    Jonathan moved toward the ss wall overlooking the city. Neon lights shimmered below, distant and impersonal. His reflection stared back at him, hard-edged and unreadable. "What did he remember?"


    Zion replied, "Hanston noticed something wrong when the site was cleared, particrly around the first-floor wine storage area. The remaining metal showed damage consistent with extremely high temperatures. It didn''t match the profile of an idental residential fire.


    "He also retrieved a small metal piece from the debris. It was heavily burned and nearly unrecognizable, but he thought it looked like part of a manual mechanical timer-an old, simple device that you wind by hand. Although outdated, it was dependable enough to dy ignition.


    "In short, the fire wasn''t caused by faulty plumbing or aging infrastructure."


    Jonathan felt his focus sharpen. "Then, why did the official conclusion stay clean?"


    Zion exined, "Hanston sent the fragment to Forensics for analysis. Theb returned a report, iming it was nothing more than melted metal, nothing worth noting.


    "Hanston challenged the findings and even confronted them directly. Forensics refused to budge.


    "Around the same time, pressure began to ease from higher levels. The Fullbuster name was involved, and no one wanted public scrutiny or spection. Orders were issued to close the case quickly. The incident wasbeled an ident, and the evidence was destroyed following protocol."


    "Higher levels?" Jonathan''s voice dropped, cold and precise. "Who applied the pressure?"


    "He doesn''t know," Zion answered. "That part seems genuine."


    Jonathan turned away from the window, his jaw tightening. "Dig deeper. Check whether any long-term rivals or hostile business connections were in Baytree during that window. I also want to know who my parents were meeting around then."


    If the fire wasn''t an ident and we were all inside, then this wasn''t a warning. It was meant to finish us.


    Another thought followed, heavier and far more ufortable. What if nobody outside covered it up? What if Dad and Mom did?


    Jonathan had been young at the time, shielded from corporate feuds and quiet vendettas.


    Keh had been present throughout the investigation. He would have known what questions to pose and wouldn''t have overlooked any signs of sabotage.


    Either the person behind it had been untouchably clever, or Keh himself had forced the truth underground.


    Zion caught the direction of Jonathan''s thinking and hesitated. "Mr. Fullbuster, your father escaped with serious burns to his back and arm. Your mother was injured as well, though not as badly You were the most severely hurt. Under normal circumstances, no one


    would protect the person


    responsible; they''d want blood."


    If a timer had been involved, then his parents couldn''t have done it. No one sets that


    kind of trap with their only son still inside, he thought.


    Jonathan lifted his phone, a faint smile curling on his lips. "Normal doesn''t apply


    here. Never assume limits where none exist."


    Self-preservation had alwayse first for his parents. Expecting anything else had been a mistake he made only once.


    The edge in Jonathan''s voice made Zion grimace inwardly.


    Only now did he fully grasp what that fire had meant.


    The deeper the investigation went, the clearer the picture became. When the mes broke out, Keh


    and Elizabeth ran before help arrived. At that moment being parents never crossed their minds.


    No one went upstairs, checked the bedrooms, or left when it became obvious that Jonathan was still inside.


    The realization clenched Zion''s chest. One decision. One pause. That was all it would''ve taken.


    If Mrs. Fullbuster''s foster father hadn''t gone back into that burning house, Mr. Fullbuster would have died there—alone, trapped, and forgotten by the people who should have mattered most.


    The injustice of it sat heavily. What a d*mn loss. If that man were still alive and could see the two of them together, he''d be happy-no doubt about it.


    "I understand," Zion replied.


    The call ended.


    Jonathan remained still, staring at his phone as his fingers tapped once, twice, then stilled. His thoughts cooled into something deliberate and unforgiving, like embers waiting for air.