Chapter 4: A Visitor at Midnight
The sharp chime of the doorbell reverberated through the quiet house, freezing both Julian and Elena in their tracks. It was well past eleven o'clock at night. Visitors at this hour were never bearers of good news. Julian looked at Elena, whose face had instantly drained of whatever color remained, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated dread.
"Don't answer it," Elena whispered, rushing forward and grabbing Julian by the forearm. Her grip was surprisingly strong, her fingers digging into his suit sleeve. "Julian, please. Just ignore it. Whoever it is will go away."
"At midnight? Nobody just drops by at midnight by accident," Julian said, gently but firmly peeling her hand off his arm. "If it's Michael Cole, it's time we settle this face-to-face. Hiding from him in our own home isn't going to make him disappear."
Julian turned and walked briskly down the short hallway toward the entryway, his dress shoes clicking sharply against the tile floor. Behind him, he heard Elena’s hurried footsteps, followed by the faint rustle of papers being swept into a bag. He reached the heavy oak front door, flipped the deadbolt, and pulled it open.
Standing on the porch under the amber glow of the carriage light was a man drenched in a light evening mist. He wore a worn canvas jacket over a faded grey hoodie, and his dark hair was plastered against his forehead. It was the man from the photograph, older now, lines of hardship etched around his eyes and mouth, but unmistakably Michael Cole.
"Julian, I presume?" Michael said, his voice deep and raspy, carrying the weariness of a man who had walked a very long road. He didn't wait for an invitation; he stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the foyer with a quiet, purposeful stride.
"You've got a lot of nerve showing up at my house in the middle of the night," Julian said, standing his ground and blocking the path to the living room.
Michael stopped just a foot away, his piercing eyes locking onto Julian's. There was no aggression in his posture, only a profound, unsettling sadness. "I didn't come to cause trouble with you, Julian. I came for my daughter."
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Julian felt the air rush out of his lungs as if he had been struck in the chest. He glanced back over his shoulder. Elena stood at the end of the hallway, frozen like a statue, her face pale as paper.
"What did you just say?" Julian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
