The first sign that something was wrong came in the form of a bright orange maintenance truck.
It had been parked across the street from the café Sylvia was in for two hours now—the same truck she had seen outside a boutique yesterday. And outside the high-end restaurant she had visited with Luciana three days ago.
Coincidence?
Not a chance.
The lettering on the side read "Carter & Sons Plumbing – 24/7 Service" in bold white print, but the phone number was smudged, as if painted on hastily. The truck itself was too clean, its tires barely dusted despite being parked near a construction zone. And the two men sitting inside? They hadn’t so much as glanced at a wrench since they got there.
Sylvia sipped her coffee, keeping her expression calm. From her seat by the window, she had a clear
