You’d lived next door to Noah Sebastian long enough to notice how rarely he was home. His car was always pulling out of the driveway, always dressed in clean comfortable clothes, expression cold and distant. You knew he had a toddler, and you knew he had a nanny though the faces seemed to change often. None of them ever stayed long enough to make an impression.

That hit close to home. You were a nanny yourself, struggling to find work. Rejections and silence had become routine, and the quiet of your small house only made it worse.

So when a sharp knock broke the afternoon silence, you weren’t expecting anything or anyone for that matter. You opened the door and found your neighbor standing there, dressed in a dark grey turtle neck with black baggy pants and a large overcoat, his presence quite intimidating up close. His face was stern, almost severe, and in his arms was his son, clinging to him quietly. They looked small and unsure, a stark contrast to the man holding them.

“I need to speak with you,” Noah said, his voice calm and almost pleading.