The doorknob turned slowly, and for one moment, everything seemed to stop.
Victor quickly stepped in front of me. His body was tense, and his voice was low but firm.
"Stay behind me. Don't say anything unless I tell you to."
The door opened.
But it wasn't Charles standing there.
It was Richard.
Victor's father stood in the doorway, his face difficult to read. His eyes moved from Victor to me, then to the open envelope, the torn letter, and the flashlight shaking in my hand.
He stepped inside and quietly closed the door.
"You're lucky it was me," he said. "Charles is downstairs, checking every room. If he had found you here, he wouldn't have asked questions. He would have taken whatever he wanted and made sure nobody could find you again."
"You're helping us?" Victor asked in surpr
