The couple argued constantly, and the subject was always money. Emma was the only light in that house. Every day, she would walk to the edge of the woods and leave scraps of bread, apples, or crackers, telling everyone she was feeding her “white angel.”
Linda just rolled her eyes at the child’s stories. But Mike had once seen a large white shadow moving through the fog between the pines, watching the girl. From that day on, the wolf appeared more often, keeping his distance but staying close enough for Emma to know he was there.
They would watch each other in a long, quiet understanding that only they seemed to share. When Emma suddenly fell ill—complaining of fatigue, looking pale, and feeling a dull ache in her chest—the wolf appeared at the house. He stood under her window at night, howling not in anger, but in a low, somber tone, as if sensing a coming storm.
October brought the breaking point. Mike opened a certified letter from the bank, his hands steady but his face pale. It was a final foreclosure notice. The land that had been in his family for five generations was slipping away.
Linda set her coffee down and said flatly, “We’re losing everything, Mike.” He nodded, feeling a cold knot of dread in his stomach. Just then, the phone rang—it was Dr. Helen Miller, and her voice was tight with professional concern.
“You need to come in; it’s about Toby,” she said, referring to Mike’s seven-year-old son. The boy sat in the waiting room, swinging his legs, while the doctor spoke in a low voice. His lab results were concerning; his enzyme levels were off the charts, and he needed an immediate, incredibly expensive procedure.
Mike asked about the cost, his mind racing. “It’s going to be upwards of a hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” the doctor replied. Adding that to the bank debt, Mike realized they needed nearly half a million dollars—money they simply didn’t have.
That evening, he sat in his workshop, staring at a half-empty bottle of bourbon. Linda came in and sat beside him, her voice eerily calm. “There’s a way out,” she said. “Emma.”
Mike looked up, confused. “Your brother left her a trust fund—nearly a million dollars. If she doesn’t make it to eighteen, the entire estate reverts to us.” Mike stood up, knocking his chair over. “Are you out of your mind?”
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