At 17, I was just babysitting for some extra cash. The Mercers—Willa and Dorian—left their usual note: “Back by midnight.” But midnight came and went. By 4 a.m., I was pacing, worried.
Then I saw the news. Their faces were on TV—caught trying to flee the country with fake passports. Embezzlement, fraud… it was all surreal. And I was still in their house. Their kids, Elise and Ezra, were asleep upstairs.
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