Chapter 1 - The Weight of Three Months
The warmth radiating from the small ceramic mug of hot chocolate felt entirely alien against my numb fingertips.
Inside the corner café, the air smelled of roasted espresso beans, toasted vanilla, and sweet, melted sugar—a world away from the damp, rotting leaf smell of Pioneer Square Park. Through the fogged-up glass windows, the Portland rain drove harder against the pavement, turning the streetlights into blurred smears of gold and gray.
I sat perched on the edge of the leather booth, my legs dangling a full foot above the floor. Across the table, little Josh was chatting animatedly with his father, swinging his legs back and forth while holding a half-eaten gingerbread man.
I had already devoured three chocolate chip cookies. I hadn't meant to eat them so fast; my hands had simply moved on their own, grabbing the plate before my brain could stop them. Now, shame burned hot in my chest, mixing with the heavy, sickening lump of a stomach that wasn't used to holding real food.
Daniel Anderson sat across from me, his dark coat draped over the adjacent chair. His expensive silk tie was slightly askew, and the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt were rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong, corded muscles. But it was his face that commanded the room—sharp, chiseled features, eyes the color of winter storms, and a look of absolute, unblinking intensity that made my skin prickle with caution.
He hadn't touched his own coffee. He was just watching me.
“You mentioned your name was Emma outside,” Daniel said softly, his voice deep and smooth, carrying an authority that commanded instant obedience even from adults. “Do you have a last name, Emma?”
I stared down into my dark mug, watching small islands of melted marshmallow float across the surface. My throat tightened. The name Reynolds felt like a heavy stone I had been dragging through the city for ninety days, a name belonging to a life that had ended the moment the hospital monitors flatlined.
“Reynolds,” I whispered, so quietly I wasn't sure he heard it.
“Emma Reynolds,” Daniel repeated, tasting the words as if he were filing them away in a secure vault. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the laminate table, bringing himself closer to my level. “Where are your parents, Emma? Where do you live?”
The question hit me like a physical blow. A cold shiver crawled down my spine.
Stay small. Stay quiet. Stay unseen.
The frantic warning bells in my head shrieked louder than they ever had. If adults found out you were alone, they didn't help you—they put you in grey rooms with fluorescent lights and social workers who asked a million questions before shipping you off to places where doors locked from the outside. I had seen other kids on the streets talking about foster care with hollow, terrified eyes.
“I live... around,” I mumbled, keeping my gaze locked on the table.
“Around where?” Daniel pressed gently, though his eyes narrowed with a sharp, analytical intelligence. “It’s almost eight o'clock on a freezing autumn night. The park is empty, and you’re wearing a jacket that’s three sizes too small for you. Where is your mother or father?”
“My mom is gone,” I said, the words slipping out before I could bite them back.
Josh stopped swinging his legs. He looked from his father to me, sensing the sudden shift in the air. “Just like my mom?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Daniel went completely still. The silence between us stretched out, thick and heavy, louder than the hiss of the espresso machine behind the counter. He saw through me. He saw the dirt under my fingernails, the bruised shadows beneath my eyes, the way my shoulders hunched defensively like a stray dog expecting a kick.
“Emma,” Daniel said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a weight that brooked no argument. “Who brought you to Pioneer Square? Who are you staying with?”
Before I had to invent a lie, the café door chimed loudly, and a blast of freezing wind swept inside.
May you like
Two police officers in high-visibility neon rain jackets stepped over the threshold, their eyes scanning the room. One of them spoke into a shoulder radio, while the other pulled out a notepad and started walking straight toward our booth.
My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird.
