YOUR HUSBAND’S LAWYER GAVE YOU THE CABIN KEYS AFTER HE DIED… THEN YOU OPENED A DOOR AND FOUND A PREGNANT GIRL WHO KNEW YOUR NAME
You don’t move at first because your body is trying to decide whether to run or wake up.
The girl’s hand stays pressed against her belly like she’s protecting the only thing she still trusts.
Her voice is small, but it lands heavy.
“You’re Emily, right?” she whispers, like she’s been practicing it.
Your throat goes dry.
You glance behind you, half-expecting Daniel to step into the hall and laugh at the “misunderstanding,” but the house only answers with silence and the faint hum of the refrigerator.
The coffee on the table is still warm, and suddenly warm feels like a threat.
You take one step back without looking away from her.
“Who are you?” you manage, and your voice doesn’t sound like your own.
The girl swallows. “My name is Lily,” she says. “Please… don’t call the police.”
That sentence makes your skin prickle, because innocent people don’t open with that unless fear is their default.
And fear has fingerprints.
