Chapter 2 - The Man Behind the Unknown Number
The knock came three times.
Not loud.
Not threatening.
Three calm taps against our front door.
I stood frozen in the hallway with Noah pressed against my chest.
The smartest thing would have been to stay silent.
Instead, I whispered through the door.
“Are you the person from the phone?”
Silence.
Then a deep voice.
“Yes.”
“How did you find us?”
“I didn’t.”
I frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I was heading to the church. I saw the Carter name on the mailbox.”
I didn’t believe coincidences like that happened.
Apparently, neither did he.
“I’m leaving the groceries outside,” he said. “You don’t need to open the door.”
I heard plastic bags touch the porch.
Then footsteps retreating.
I waited.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Finally, I looked through the window.
He was standing beside the sedan, far enough away that I could safely open the door.
I cracked it.
Cold air rushed inside.
Three bags sat on the porch.
Not twenty dollars of groceries.
Probably two hundred.
Maybe more.
Milk.
Eggs.
Bread.
Fruit.
Chicken.
Baby food.
Diapers.
Formula.
My throat tightened.
“You bought too much.”
The man looked at me.
For the first time, I saw his face clearly.
He looked hard.
Not cruel.
There was a difference.
“You asked for enough,” he said.
“I can’t pay for all this.”
“I didn't ask you to.”
“You don’t even know us.”
“No.”
His eyes moved toward Noah.
“But I know a baby shouldn’t go hungry.”
That sentence nearly broke me.
Then headlights swept across the street.
Mom’s old silver car pulled into the driveway.
The moment Sarah Carter stepped out and saw the black sedan, she stopped.
Her grocery-cleaning tote slipped from her shoulder.
Her face drained of color.
She wasn’t looking at the car.
She was looking at the man beside it.
“Emily,” she said sharply. “Inside.”
“Mom—”
“Now.”
I had never heard her use that voice.
I stepped backward.
Lorenzo didn’t move.
Sarah crossed the driveway.
“What are you doing here?”
Lorenzo studied her.
Then his expression changed too.
“You know me?”
Mom’s hands began shaking.
“No.”
It was the fastest lie I had ever heard.
Lorenzo heard it too.
“You do.”
“Stay away from my children.”
“Sarah—”
“You don't get to say my name.”
I stared between them.
“You know him?”
Mom turned toward me.
“Inside, Emily.”
“Mom, he brought food for Noah.”
Her eyes dropped toward the grocery bags.
Confusion replaced fear.
“What?”
I showed her the phone.
“I accidentally texted him instead of Aunt Lisa.”
Mom read the conversation.
Her face changed sentence by sentence.
When she finished, she looked at Lorenzo.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Mom whispered something I would remember for years.
“Of all the numbers in Detroit.”
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Mom picked up the groceries.
“Thank you for helping my children.”
“Sarah.”
“But you need to leave.”
He stared at her.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
He entered the sedan.
Before the door closed, however, he looked toward me.
“Emily.”
I hesitated.
“Yeah?”
“Next time you need help, ask before the refrigerator is empty.”
Mom stiffened.
Lorenzo closed the door.
The car disappeared down the street.
Inside, Mom locked the door twice.
Then she closed every curtain.
“Mom?”
She said nothing.
“Who is he?”
“No one.”
“That’s not true.”
She turned.
“Emily, promise me something. If that number messages again, you don't answer.”
“But—”
“Promise.”
Her fear frightened me more than Lorenzo ever had.
“I promise.”
That night, after Noah finally fell asleep with a full stomach, I woke around midnight.
Mom was downstairs.
I heard her speaking on the phone.
I crept toward the stairs.
“You told me this was over,” she whispered.
Pause.
“No, Lisa. Listen to me. Lorenzo Moretti stood outside my house today.”
My heart hammered.
Aunt Lisa.
Mom continued.
“He saw Emily.”
Another pause.
Then Mom said something that changed everything.
“No. He doesn't know who her father was.”
I gripped the banister.
Her father.
My father.
The man Mom had told me died before I was old enough to remember him.
Then she whispered:
“And if Lorenzo finds out what Michael left behind, he'll understand why we disappeared.”
I stopped breathing.
Downstairs, Mom suddenly went silent.
A floorboard had creaked beneath my foot.
“Emily?”
I ran back toward my bedroom.
But it was too late.
Mom had heard me.
May you like
And by morning, the twenty-dollar text would no longer be the biggest secret in our house.
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