My daughter begged to spend summer with her dad and stepmom in Florida.
I packed sunscreen, snacks, a new swimsuit-then kissed her goodbye.
Three days later, I got a call from her school.
Confused, I said she was out of state.
The secretary paused, then said, “She’s sitting right here and won’t explain where she’s been…”
My stomach dropped.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I told the secretary, grabbing my keys with trembling hands. The drive to school felt like a blur, every worst-case scenario racing through my head.
When I walked into the office, there she was — my daughter, pale and silent, her eyes darting between me and the floor. She looked… different.
I knelt beside her. “Sweetheart, what happened? Why aren’t you in Florida?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she slowly pulled something from her pocket — a folded piece of paper. When I opened it, my breath caught.
It wasn’t a note.
It was a photograph.
In it, my daughter stood in front of a strange house I’d never seen before… with a man I didn’t recognize.
And in the background, in the window, there was a shadow of someone watching — their face pressed to the glass.