Chapter 5: The Email
I didn't move.
The laptop sat open on the dining table, its screen glowing through the doorway.
My name appeared in the notification.
Not my email address.
My name.
*Evelyn Carter.*
Jordan whispered, “Mom…”
I looked at him.
“Why is my name on it?””
“I don't know.””
Marcus walked into the dining room.
I followed.
Jordan stayed behind us.
The laptop displayed four unread messages.
Marcus pulled out the chair.
“Don't touch anything.””
“I wasn't going to.””
He sat down.
The first email had arrived eleven minutes earlier.
The second, eight minutes ago.
The third, four minutes ago.
The fourth had just arrived.
All from the same address.
I stared at the screen.
There was no profile picture.
No recognizable name.
Just a string of letters and numbers.
Marcus looked at me.
“Do you know this address?””
“No.””
“Have you ever seen it?””
“No.””
Jordan stepped closer.
“Can I look?””
Marcus shook his head.
“Stay there.””
“Dad, please.””
“Until we know what's happening, nobody clicks anything.””
Jordan's face tightened.
“That's probably Lena.””
“Probably isn't good enough.””
Marcus opened the first message.
There was no greeting.
No explanation.
Just one sentence.
*Your son isn't telling you everything.*
My heart began pounding.
I read it twice.
Then a second line appeared beneath it.
*Ask him about the money.*
I turned around.
Jordan was staring at the floor.
Marcus stood.
“What money?””
Jordan didn't answer.
“Jordan.””
“I don't have any money.””
“That's not what I asked.””
Jordan rubbed the back of his neck.
“I borrowed some.””
“From whom?””
“Nobody.””
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“Jordan.””
“It's not a big deal.””
I felt a sudden anger rise in me.
“Then tell us.””
He looked at me.
“I used some of your money.””
“How much?””
He hesitated.
“How much, Jordan?””
“Three hundred.””
Marcus went completely still.
“Three hundred dollars?””
“I was going to put it back.””
“When?””
“I don't know.””
“What did you spend it on?””
Jordan's eyes moved toward the laptop.
“I sent it to Lena.””
The room fell silent.
I sat down.
My hands felt cold.
“You sent a stranger three hundred dollars?””
“She needed it.””
“For what?””
“Food.””
“Jordan,” Marcus said, “you don't know her.””
“I know her!””
“You have never met her.””
“I've talked to her every day!””
“That isn't the same thing.””
Jordan's voice rose.
“She showed me where she lives!””
Marcus's eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?””
“She sent pictures.””
“Of what?””
“Her house.””
“Her house?””
“Yeah.””
“Can we see them?””
Jordan froze.
Marcus waited.
“Can we see them?””
“I deleted them.””
“Why?””
“She asked me to.””
“Why?””
“I don't know!””
Marcus walked away from the table.
I looked at my son.
“Jordan, did she ask you for the money?””
He nodded.
“What exactly did she say?””
“She said she needed to buy something.””
“What?””
“Medicine.””
“For whom?””
Jordan swallowed.
“Her little brother.””
My heart softened despite everything.
“How old is her brother?””
“Six.””
“Does he live with her?””
“I think so.””
“You think?””
“I don't know!””
Jordan sank into the chair.
“I was trying to help.””
I looked at Marcus.
His expression was complicated.
Anger.
Fear.
And something else.
Recognition.
“What?”” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Nothing.””
“No. What is it?””
Marcus returned to the laptop.
“Read the second email.””
I did.
This time there was an attachment.
A photograph.
I clicked it.
The image opened.
It showed a little boy sitting on a couch.
He was perhaps six or seven.
His face was partially hidden.
Beside him sat a girl who looked about Jordan's age.
Long braids.
Black hoodie.
Tired eyes.
Jordan immediately pointed.
“That's her.””
I zoomed in.
My breath caught.
Something about the room behind them looked familiar.
A framed photograph.
A lamp.
A wooden cabinet.
I stared.
“Marcus.””
“What?””
“Look at the wall.””
He leaned closer.
There was a photograph hanging behind Lena.
An older photograph.
A family.
The image was blurry, but the faces were clear enough.
An older woman.
A little girl.
A man.
And beside them—
I stopped breathing.
“That's impossible.””
Marcus looked at me.
“What?””
I pointed.
“That man.””
He stared at the photograph.
His face changed.
“Do you know him?””
I couldn't answer.
Because I did.
Twenty years ago, before Marcus and I married, I had worked at a small accounting firm downtown.
One of our clients had been a construction company.
The owner had a son.
A charming man with expensive shoes and a talent for lying.
His name had been David.
David Mercer.
I hadn't seen him in twenty years.
But I recognized his face immediately.
Marcus looked at me.
“Evelyn?””
I whispered, “I know that man.””
Jordan stood.
“You do?””
I nodded slowly.
“He worked for one of our clients.””
“Who?””
“Mercer Construction.””
Marcus stared at the photograph.
“Why would his picture be in Lena's house?””
“I don't know.””
Jordan walked toward the laptop.
“That's her stepdad.””
Marcus looked at him.
“You said you didn't know who he was.””
“I didn't know his name.””
“What is his name?””
Jordan's voice dropped.
“David.””
I looked at Marcus.
Neither of us spoke.
Then the laptop chimed.
Another email.
This one had no subject.
I opened it.
There was a single sentence.
*Now ask Evelyn why David Mercer knows your family.*
I stared at the words.
Jordan looked at me.
“Mom?””
I couldn't speak.
Marcus's voice was quiet.
“Evelyn, what aren't you telling us?””
I closed my eyes.
“I haven't seen David Mercer since before we met.””
“That doesn't answer the question.””
“I don't know why he'd know us.””
“Did you have something to do with him?””
“No.””
“Did you ever work directly with him?””
“No.””
“Did he ever threaten you?””
I hesitated.
Marcus noticed.
“Evelyn.””
I looked at my husband.
“Not exactly.””
Jordan's face tightened.
“What does that mean?””
I swallowed.
“Years ago, David was investigated for stealing money from his company.””
Marcus frowned.
“What does that have to do with you?””
“I found the records.””
“What records?””
“The ones proving he had been moving money.””
Jordan stared at me.
“You caught him?””
I nodded.
“He lost his company.””
Marcus slowly sat down.
“And you never told me?””
“It happened before we were married.””
“You never mentioned him.””
“I didn't think I needed to.””
The room went silent.
Then Jordan's phone buzzed.
Marcus had left it on the dining table.
Jordan grabbed it.
He read the new message.
His expression collapsed.
“What?””
He turned the screen toward us.
It was from Lena.
*He knows who your mother is.*
A second message appeared.
*And now he knows you sent her the photo.*
Then a third.
*Get out of the house.*
Marcus stood so quickly the chair crashed backward.
“What did she mean by that?””
Jordan stared at the screen.
Then we heard something outside.
A car door slammed.
Marcus moved toward the window.
I followed.
A dark SUV sat across the street.
Its engine was running.
The driver's window was too dark to see through.
Marcus whispered, “Everybody stay away from the windows.””
Jordan's breathing quickened.
“Dad…”
The SUV's headlights turned off.
Then the driver's door opened.
A man stepped onto the sidewalk.
Even from that distance, I knew him.
The years had changed his hair.
Not his face.
Not his walk.
Not the way he stood with his hands in his coat pockets.
David Mercer looked directly at our house.
May you like
And then he raised one hand.
He was holding a photograph.