I was steps away from my home, cradling my sleeping baby, when an elderly woman rushed toward me and clung to my wrist. “If you love your child, don’t go in. Call him.” In her palm was a name I hadn’t spoken in a decade—my brother, missing and presumed dead. When I dialed… someone whispered, “I’ve been waiting for you.
I was standing at the entrance of my apartment building in Portland, Oregon, holding my newborn son, Mikey, when an old woman emerged from the fog like she had stepped out of nowhere and grabbed my arm.
“Don’t go inside—call your father,” she whispered urgently.
My heart lurched.
“My father?” I repeated. “Ma’am… my father’s been gone for eight years.”
Her grip tightened. Her weathered eyes darted toward the building entrance as if something inside terrified her. “Call him. Now. Before you go upstairs.”
Then she hurried away, vanishing around the corner, leaving me shaken and confused.
At first, I thought she was mentally ill, maybe confused. A random stranger. But something in her voice—cracked, trembling, utterly convinced—made my stomach twist. And why had she known I had a father to call at all?
I shifted Mikey in my arms and stared at the doorway. My apartment was quiet, safe. Nothing unusual. But now something felt wrong.
Eight years. That’s how long it had been since my father died of a sudden heart attack while hiking in Colorado. I had mourned him, buried him, visited his grave.
Still… my hands were trembling as I pulled out my phone.
His old number was still saved, a relic I never deleted.
I pressed call.
I expected the line to be disconnected.
Instead, it rang.
Once… twice… and then—
“Hello?” a man answered.
My breath left me in a violent rush. It was his voice. Deep, steady. Impossible.
“Dad?” I whispered.
A pause. Sharp, quick, startled.
“Emily? Where are you?”
I felt dizzy. “At home… but someone told me not to go inside. Dad, what is going on? You’re dead. You—”
“Listen to me,” he interrupted firmly. “Step away from the building. Right now. Don’t go in. Do you understand me?”
My pulse hammered. “Why? What’s happening?”
“Because the man you’ve been living with isn’t who he says he is.”
Cold fear shot straight down my spine.
My ex-boyfriend, Andre, had disappeared two weeks before Mikey was born. No warning. No note. I assumed he left. I hadn’t seen him since.
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
There was movement behind the glass doors—fast. Someone inside the lobby.
My father’s voice tightened, low and urgent.
“Emily, listen. I need you to take the baby and walk away from the building. I’ll explain everything, but you need to move. Now.”
That was when the lobby lights flickered—and the elevator doors opened with a metallic clang.
Someone stepped out.
And I realized the old woman had not been mistaken.
Something was terribly, dangerously wrong.
I backed away from the entrance, clutching Mikey to my chest, every nerve buzzing. The figure stepping out of the elevator was tall, hooded, moving quickly toward the glass doors. I couldn’t see his face, but his gait—determined, almost frantic—made my skin crawl.
“Dad,” I whispered into the phone, “someone’s coming.”
“Good. Keep walking. Don’t let him see you.”
“How do you know—?”
“Emily, please. Trust me.”
My feet finally obeyed. I turned and walked fast, heart pounding, putting distance between me and the building.
When I reached the corner, I ducked behind a parked SUV and peeked out. The man exited the building, looked around sharply, then pulled out a phone and made a call. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tension in his posture told me enough: he was looking for someone.
Me.
My father’s voice came through the phone again. “Are you somewhere safe?”
“Hidden, for now,” I whispered. “But Dad, how are you alive? Why am I talking to you?”
There was a heavy exhale. “I never died. At least… not the way you were told.”
“That’s impossible. I saw—”
“You saw a closed casket,” he said quietly. “There was no body. The hiking trip wasn’t an accident. It was part of an extraction.”
My jaw went slack. “Extraction from what?”
“A criminal organization I infiltrated years ago. I was working undercover. They discovered my identity. I had to disappear. My death was staged. The agency relocated me. New identity. New life.”
I pressed a hand against the SUV to steady myself. “Dad… why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because they would have used you to get to me. And now”—his voice strained—“they are.”
“What do they want?”
“You and the baby. That’s why I’m back in contact. They resurfaced. Someone compromised my cover. They found your address.”
The world spun. “But why Mikey? He’s just a baby.”
A pause.
“That’s the part I didn’t want you to learn this way,” he said. “Andre—your ex—was involved with them. Not fully, but enough. They think you might have information he hid. Something they want back.”
“But I don’t know anything!”
“I know. But they don’t believe that. They think Andre passed something to you.”
My hands shook uncontrollably. “Dad… what do I do?”
“Stay on the phone. I’m close. I’ve been tracking the group ever since I heard Andre resurfaced.”
My breath caught. “You mean… Andre isn’t gone?”
“Not in the way you think,” my father said. “He disappeared because people were hunting him. And now they’re hunting you.”
I clutched Mikey tighter. “Dad, I’m scared.”
“I know, sweetheart. But you’re not alone. Just stay hidden.”
Suddenly the hooded man turned his head sharply in my direction. I ducked behind the SUV.
“Dad,” I whispered, “I think he heard something.”
My father’s tone hardened. “Emily, listen carefully. Do not move. I’m pulling up right now.”
I peeked out just long enough to see a silver sedan screech to a stop at the curb—and a familiar man jump out, sprinting toward me.
My father.
Alive.
Real.
And running toward me with terror written all over his face.
My father reached me just as the hooded man stepped into the parking lot, scanning the area. Dad pulled me behind the sedan, shielding both me and Mikey with his body.
“Get in,” he whispered urgently. “Back seat. Keep your head down.”
Seconds later, he slid into the driver’s seat and peeled out of the lot. Behind us, the hooded man sprinted to a dark van and jumped inside.
“They’re following us!” I cried.
“I know. We’ll lose them.”
The car shot forward. My father took turns so sharply I clung to Mikey with both hands. The baby whimpered, sensing the tension. Dad wove through side streets, took alleys I didn’t even know existed, and finally—after ten agonizing minutes—the van vanished from sight.
Only then did he slow down.
“Dad…” My voice cracked. “Start talking. All of it.”
He exhaled, long and haunted, as he merged onto a quieter road.
“Twenty years ago, I joined a federal task force investigating a trafficking and financial-crimes ring. We infiltrated from the inside. That’s how I met Andre.”
My pulse jumped. “Andre was involved that long?”
“No. He was a teenager then, like an errand boy. They used him because he was poor and desperate. Eventually he got in deeper. But years later, he tried to get out. That’s when he met you.”
My mind reeled. Andre had always been secretive, but kind. Nervous, but gentle. I thought he was just overwhelmed about becoming a father.
Dad continued, “He stole financial records from the organization. Something that could take down half their operation. He intended to turn them over to authorities… but he went missing before he could.”
“And they think I have them,” I whispered.
“Yes. They think Andre hid them with you.”
A cold ache spread through me. “But I don’t. I never saw any documents.”
“They don’t care what’s true. Just what’s convenient.”
I shook my head. “Why now? Why show up today?”
“Because Andre resurfaced last month. Briefly. Injured. On the run. He reached out to the agency and told them he wanted to protect you and the baby. He said he’d hidden the files somewhere safe… but he never got to reveal where.”
My breath stuttered. “Is he alive?”
Dad hesitated. That alone told me enough.
“They haven’t found his body,” he said softly. “But he hasn’t made contact in weeks.”
I pressed Mikey to my chest, my throat tight.
My father continued driving until we reached a small rental house outside the city. Inside, he double-locked every door and window, checked corners, then finally sat across from me.
“I know this is overwhelming,” he said gently. “But we’ll keep you safe. And we’ll figure out what Andre left behind.”
“How?” I whispered.
Dad reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small silver flash drive.
My breath caught.
“He managed to slip this to one of my old contacts before he disappeared,” Dad said. “We haven’t decrypted it yet. But I think whatever’s on it… is what they’re hunting.”
I stared at the drive—so small, so ordinary—yet holding the answer to everything.
“What happens now?” I asked.
Dad met my eyes with calm determination.
“Now we protect you and the baby,” he said. “Now we take down the people who’ve been haunting our family for years.”
He placed a hand over mine.
“And now, Emily… I’m here. I’m not leaving you again.”
For the first time since the old woman grabbed my arm, I finally believed I might be safe.
Not because danger was gone—
But because I wasn’t running from it alone anymore.
