The hinges creaked softly.

Inside, the bedside lamp cast a warm, yellow glow over the room.

Mrs. Alvarez was sitting on the edge of Lily’s bed, her arms wrapped around all three girls.

Olivia and Grace had their faces buried in her apron.

Lily was clutching Mrs. Alvarez’s sleeve, her eyes wide with fear.

Standing in the corner near the heavy velvet curtains was Thomas Vale.

His expensive gray suit was wrinkled, and his tie hung loose around his collar.

He looked pale and exhausted, bags hanging heavy under his eyes.

In his hand, he held a thick manila envelope.

“What are you doing in my house, Thomas?” Richard asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Vale raised his free hand in a defensive gesture.

“I didn’t touch them, Richard,” Vale said, his voice cracking. “I swear I didn’t touch them.”

“Mrs. Alvarez kept them safe, I didn’t go near them.”

I walked past Richard, rushing to the bed.

I threw my arms around my daughters, pulling them close to my chest.

They were warm and shaking, but they were unharmed.

“Mommy,” Lily whispered, her voice muffled against my shoulder.