When our house caught fire, my father shoved me back into the burning room and pulled my brother to safety. My mother said they could not lose their son and abandoned me in the flames. They thought I was gone, but they never knew I escaped...

Returning to Columbus felt like walking through a graveyard. The Millers had used their insurance money and GoFundMe cash to rent a luxurious, sprawling colonial house in an upscale gated community while their old home was being rebuilt.

I arrived in town under the guise of an independent real estate consultant representing a wealthy, anonymous buyer looking to invest in commercial properties in the area. It was the perfect cover to get close to David Miller's firm.

I scheduled a meeting with David at his office under my pseudonym, Nora Vance.

When I walked into his private suite, the smell of his expensive cologne—the same cologne he wore the night he pushed me into the flames—hit me like a physical blow. I had to force my hands to stay steady at my sides.

"Ah, Miss Vance! A pleasure to meet you," David said, rising from his leather chair and extending his hand.

I looked at his hand. The hand that had gripped Tyler’s wrist to pull him to safety. The hand that had shoved me away.

I took it, giving it a firm, icy shake. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Miller. My client is very interested in the downtown redevelopment project your firm is managing."

David beamed. He looked haggard beneath his professional smile. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair had gone almost entirely gray in the past few months. "Fantastic. Let’s sit down and look over the numbers."

As we talked, his desk phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and his expression instantly darkened. "I'm so sorry, Miss Vance, I have to take this. It's my wife's doctor."

"Please, go ahead," I said smoothly.

He stepped to the corner of the room, turning his back to me. "Carol? What's wrong? ... Another panic attack? Did you give her the medication? ... Look, I'm in a meeting. I'll be home in an hour."

When he hung up, he turned back to me, looking embarrassed. "I apologize. My family... we went through a terrible tragedy recently. We lost our daughter in a house fire. My wife hasn't been herself since."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said, my voice dripping with a fake, poisonous sympathy. "It must be devastating to lose a child. I can't even imagine the guilt a parent must feel... wondering if they could have done more to save her."

David flinched. The words hit him exactly where I wanted them to. For a second, a flash of pure, unadulterated terror crossed his face before he masked it with a tight nod.