My stomach dropped. “But… the doorbell—”
Ethan nodded hard, tears gathering. “I called Dad,” he whispered. “It went to voicemail. Then another number texted me right after. It said, ‘He’s home now. Open the door.’”
My throat went tight. “Did you tell me?”
“I tried,” Ethan whispered, voice breaking. “But you were in the shower and then you were tired and—” He swallowed. “Then the bell rang.”
On the porch, the shadow shifted again. The voice repeated, softer now, almost coaxing.
“Emma,” it called—using my name. “Come on. I’m freezing out here.”
The black SUV’s brake lights blinked once, like a signal.
My mind raced through explanations that were terrifying precisely because they were realistic: someone had cloned his number. Someone knew our routines. Someone knew my name. Someone had an accomplice waiting behind us to block escape.
This wasn’t a prank.
This was coordinated.
I slammed the car into drive and tried to pull forward around the SUV—but the angle was wrong. The driveway was narrow, and the SUV had positioned itself perfectly.
“Call 911,” I snapped.
Ethan’s hands shook so badly he fumbled his phone. “I—I can’t breathe,” he whispered.
I grabbed my phone with one hand and dialed with the other, forcing my voice steady. “There’s someone impersonating my husband at my front door,” I told the dispatcher. “And a black SUV is blocking my driveway. My child and I are in the car. We feel trapped.”
The dispatcher’s tone sharpened immediately. “Stay in the vehicle. Lock the doors. Keep your engine running. Officers are on the way.”
I hit the lock button. The doors clicked.
On the porch, the figure stepped closer to the glass, and porch light finally illuminated part of his face.
For a heartbeat, my mind tried to accept it.
Same height. Same jacket my husband wore. Same posture.

The doorbell rang—my husband, home from his trip. Before I could move, my son grabbed my wrist. “Mom, don’t open it. Don’t let him in. We have to go—now!”
I didn’t have time to question him. I followed as he pulled me through the back door and into the car.
I turned the key. The engine roared—
and that’s when the impossible happened, right in our driveway.

The doorbell rang—my husband, home from his trip.