Evelyn locked Noah outside in the snow with no coat while Daniel watched.

We landed in a small coastal town far to the north. The air was cold and sharp, smelling of salt and pine. A woman met us at the airport—quiet, kind-eyed, waiting beside an old station wagon.

"I’m Sarah," she said softly. "Thomas sent me."

She drove us along winding roads, past forests and rocky shorelines, until we reached a small white house perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. It was isolated, surrounded by trees, with no other homes in sight.

"Here you’ll be safe," Sarah said as she unlocked the door. "No one knows this place. Thomas made certain of it."

The house was warm inside. Wood floors, a stone fireplace, windows looking out over the water. Upstairs, two bedrooms waited—one for Emily, one for me. Everything we could possibly need was already there. Clothes, books, toys, food.

"Thomas planned this," Emily said quietly, running her hand along the mantelpiece. "He knew we would be coming here."

"He prepared it long before your father died," Sarah told her. "Just in case. He said… if anything ever happened to Noah… bring him here."

Days passed. Then weeks. The snow melted. Spring came to the coast. I started school—a small classroom with only a dozen children. I went by a new name. Emily went by a new name. To everyone here, we were someone else entirely.

But we were still us. Behind closed doors, she was still Mommy. And I was still Noah. And we still talked about home every night before bed.

Emily spent her days reading through the documents Thomas had given her. She made notes. She made copies. She called him once a week, always from a payphone in town, never using a cell phone.

"Is it time to go back yet?" I asked her one evening. We were sitting on the porch, watching the sun set over the ocean.

Emily was quiet. Then she said:

"Soon, Noah. Very soon. Thomas says Daniel and Evelyn are under investigation. Their accounts are frozen. They cannot touch the inheritance. They cannot hurt us."

"Then why can’t we go home?"

Emily took a breath.

"Because they still haven’t been caught. Until we know for certain… we stay here. Where it is safe."

But safety, I was beginning to learn, is a fragile thing.

Two days later, Sarah came to the house in a panic. She handed Emily a newspaper, her hands shaking.

On page three was a photograph.

Thomas.