Inside the car, she sat rigidly against the passenger door, her eyes constantly scanning the streets and intersections as if she had learned to expect danger everywhere.
Emily tried to speak with her gently, but the girl answered only in short sentences.
As Daniel drove, Emily noticed something that made her breath catch.
On the girl’s left wrist was a small birthmark—tiny and star-shaped.
Daniel nearly slammed on the brakes when Emily whispered it to him.
When they arrived at their penthouse overlooking the marina in Silver Bay Heights, the girl stopped dead in the doorway.
The high glass walls, polished marble floors, and sparkling chandelier seemed to overwhelm her.
She looked down at her worn shoes, unsure whether she was even allowed to step inside.
Emily smiled softly.
“You’re safe here.”
She prepared a warm bath and gave the girl clean clothes. At first, the girl stood stiffly beside the bathtub, as if she didn’t trust the water.
But once she stepped in, something inside her seemed to break.
She began to cry quietly—deep, shaking sobs that sounded like years of fear and exhaustion finally spilling out.