Chapter 3
The parchment lay exposed on the concrete, its edges frayed and darkened by age. Mark stopped mid-motion, his hand suspended in the air, his breathing ragged and audible in the tense stillness of the garage. He stared down at the paper as if it were a venomous snake ready to strike.
"Don't touch it, Leo," Mark whispered, his voice tight with a warning that sent a shiver straight down the boy's spine.
Leo ignored his father's command. Slowly, deliberately, he knelt down on the dusty floor and reached out. His fingers brushed the fragile paper, and he carefully unfolded it. Written in faded, elegant cursive was a series of coordinates followed by a short, cryptic sentence that made no immediate sense: The truth of the foundation lies beneath the floorboards where the river meets the mill.
"What does this mean?" Leo asked, looking up from the paper to meet his father's eyes. "A mill? There hasn't been a working mill in Oak Grove for fifty years. Not since the old town hall burned down."
Sarah walked over slowly, kneeling beside her son. She placed a gentle, trembling hand on his shoulder, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "Your grandfather didn't just lose his business when the mill burned, Leo. People said it was an accident. An electrical fire. But your grandfather spent the last decade of his life trying to prove someone set it on purpose."
"And you knew about this?" Leo asked, turning his gaze from his mother to his father, feeling a deep wave of betrayal wash over him. "You let everyone in town call him crazy, while you kept his secret locked away in our garage?"
"We didn't have a choice," Mark said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he finally looked down at the parchment. "If the people who burned that mill knew we had these coordinates, our family wouldn't be safe here for another single day."
Maya peeked out from the doorway, sensing the heavy shift in the room's atmosphere, clutching her floral dress tighter. "Mommy, why is everyone yelling again?"
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"Go inside, sweetie, everything is fine," Sarah called out gently without breaking eye contact with her husband. She turned back to Leo. "Your grandfather built this house on top of the old foundation for a reason. He believed the evidence of who destroyed his life was never destroyed at all."
Leo looked back down at the yellowed parchment, his mind racing to connect the dots of the town's forgotten history. But before he could ask another question, a sharp, metallic sound echoed from outside the garage—the distinct crunch of heavy boots walking across the gravel driveway in the deepening twilight.
