A young widow picked up a backpack discarded from a sleek SUV at the dump…

At the door to the backyard, a dim “nightlight” bulb glowed. In its faint light, Emily made out a shadow. Someone was outside, near the porch.

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. For several long seconds—silence. Then a rustle, a soft click, and the door shifted.

For a moment, Emily didn’t understand what was happening. Then she saw the iron deadbolt’s handle slowly turning. Someone had slipped a long object through the crack in the doorframe.

Emily recoiled, ice flooding her veins. “Who’s there?” she rasped, trying to sound firm. The handle froze, but no answer came.

Her heart raced wildly; she had nothing to defend herself with. “Tommy! I have to save my son!” She rushed back to the bedroom. Waking him, she whispered, “Quiet, honey! Climb out the window and run to Aunt Sarah’s! Hurry!”

Half-asleep, the boy didn’t understand, but Emily quickly pulled a jacket over his pajamas and practically pushed him through the narrow window leading to the neighbor’s yard. Tommy let out a soft yelp of surprise but obediently ran into the dark.

As soon as she helped him out, a loud crash came from outside. The front door was kicked in with a powerful blow. Emily gasped.

Two strangers burst into the house. They grabbed her roughly, hurling threats and demanding the money. One barked, “Where’s the cash? Talk, or I’ll kill you!”

Emily shielded her head in terror. “Don’t touch my son! I’ll give it all back!” she croaked. One of the thugs struck her across the face.

Blood filled her mouth instantly. Her vision blurred, and her cheek burned like fire. The men clearly weren’t waiting for answers and began ransacking the house.

One flipped the couch, pulling out hidden stacks of cash; the other tore through the kitchen. Items flew everywhere, and scattered bills rustled. Emily watched the chaos with despair…