Chapter Two – The House Was Never His
I barely slept.
Not because of fear.
Because my mind refused to stop.
After leaving the restaurant, I checked the girls into a small hotel five blocks away.
It wasn't fancy.
Two queen beds.
A tiny Christmas tree in the corner.
A heater that rattled every few minutes.
But it was warm.
Safe.
For the first time that night, Sofia and Camila fell asleep without flinching every time a phone vibrated.
I sat beside the window watching snow gather on the parking lot.
Michael had called thirty-one times.
Carol had called twelve.
His sister, Diane, had left three voicemails.
None of them asked if the girls were all right.
Not one.
Every message demanded the same thing.
"Come home."
"Return the money."
"Stop embarrassing the family."
It struck me then.
No one was worried about us.
They were worried about appearances.
At 6:15 the next morning, my phone buzzed again.
It was Daniel Foster.
"Emily?"
"I have something you need."
May you like
His voice was careful.
"I stayed after everyone
