We walked through the grand, silent kitchen.

The servants kept their heads down, refusing to look at us.

We stepped out into the cold Connecticut night.

The autumn air hit my face, cooling the burning pain on my cheek.

A large, black SUV was parked in the driveway, its engine idling quietly.

The headlights cut through the thick mist rising from the lawn.

Richard opened the rear door for us.

“Get in,” he said softly.

“You are safe now.”

I helped the girls climb into the warm, leather seats.

They curled up together, exhausted and trembling.

I climbed in after them and pulled the door shut.

The heavy doors drowned out the sound of the wind.

Richard got into the front seat and looked at me through the rearview mirror.

“My estate is forty minutes from here,” Richard said.

“It is quiet, and no one can get past the gates.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“My housekeeper, Mrs. Alvarez, is already preparing rooms for you,” he said.

“She has made hot soup, and there are clean clothes for the girls.”