The Devil Wore a Child’s Smile

“Come on, Finch, the kid’s in bad shape. Let him stay the night, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s not like he’s a stranger. He’s just a kid, came all the way here in the middle of the night. You’ve helped him before—what’s one more time?”

“You just got a new car. Taking in an orphan won’t cost you much. Just open the door and take him in already—it’s late. Don’t cause a scene.”

I knew I couldn’t dodge this, so I opened the door.

Tyrell collapsed to the ground, covered in blood.

The second he saw me, he dragged himself over and latched onto my leg.

“Sir! I finally found you—please, you gotta save me!

“They didn’t adopt me out of kindness. They just wanted someone for their mentally disabled son to beat on! When I said no, they started hittin’ me, cussin’ me out… wouldn’t even let me eat!

“If I ain’t run fast enough, they’re gonna drag me into that guy’s room and let him do whatever he wants to me…”

He cried like the world was ending.

The neighbors around us were already stirred up, and now they were full of sympathy.

“In a state of law, people like that still exist? What kind of monsters are they?”

“You and your wife are good folks, Finch. You volunteer at the orphanage every week. Why not take the kid in for real? You’re a company exec, right? It’s not like you can’t afford to feed one more mouth.”

“Exactly. You only have one kid—raising two’s just as easy. He came all this way to find you. That’s fate, man. Don’t turn him away. Poor kid.”

Cecily was clearly moved.

But she wouldn’t say yes unless I gave the nod.

I took the phone from her and dialed 911.

“Tyrell, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. But the adoption’s already been processed. If I take you back now, that’s illegal. You don’t want me getting falsely accused of kidnapping, right?

“The cops will investigate. If your adoptive parents really did something wrong, the adoption won’t hold. You’ll be back in the orphanage, safe. Trust me.”

He looked at me with pure hatred, but I didn’t flinch.

I reported everything to the cops.

The neighbors, seeing the issue was handled, went back to their homes.

Cecily didn’t have memories of our past life, so I didn’t want her getting soft on Tyrell.

I decided to take him to the station myself.

Before I left, I saw my son hiding in the room, scared.

I told Cecily to stay and comfort him.

Then I took Tyrell into the elevator.

On the way, he kept up the act—crying, begging me to adopt him, as if the whole world but our family was out to get him.

But I stayed quiet, just politely brushing him off.

By the time we finished the report, it was already six in the morning.

Tyrell stayed at the police department, waiting for his adoptive parents to pick him up.

I finally made it back home.

Relief hit me like a truck—I was sweating cold.

I knew, without a doubt, that this kid had his eyes on us.

‘We can’t stay here anymore…’

I spent the entire day selling the house and prepping to move.

But even that was too late.

At six in the afternoon, I got a call from my son’s homeroom teacher.

“Mr. Lyttleton, why wasn’t Alfie at school today? Is he sick? You didn’t call to excuse him.”