The girl looked up sharply, eyes glistening. “Th-thank you,” she whispered.

Mark nodded kindly, then looked at the man. “She’s your daughter?”

The man hesitated for a moment. “Yeah,” he said curtly. “Just having breakfast.”

“Nice,” Mark replied casually. But his instincts told him to stay. He didn’t believe the words — not yet.

Then he noticed something: the girl’s small hand moved across the table, her finger tracing faint letters on the shiny surface.

Mark’s stomach dropped as he read it — HELP.

The letters disappeared almost instantly as her hand fell back to her lap. But he had seen them. Every muscle in his body went still.