The rain that evening fell harder than Hannah had ever seen in years. Sheets of water blurred the streetlights, and thunder rolled across the small town like angry drums. Inside a modest wooden house on Maple Lane, Hannah Collins sat at the kitchen table, sewing a rip in her son’s school uniform. Her four children—Ava, Jacob, Lily, and Ben—were gathered around a candle, finishing their homework.
It had been two years since her husband, Matthew, died in a construction accident, leaving behind a mortgage she struggled to pay. The house was old, but it was all they had.
When a sudden knock echoed through the storm, Hannah froze. Few people ever came out this far at night—especially in weather like this. Another knock followed, louder this time, mixed with the sound of wind and rain.
