Her tiny face peeked out, pale and sleepy, her breath shallow but steady. Theo’s hoodie was threadbare, too large for his frame, and dark bruises bloomed along his arms like shadows beneath the fluorescent lights. The nurses at the front desk looked up in unison, startled by the sight of a child so young standing alone in the quiet hours of the night. For a brief moment, no one spoke. The hum of medical equipment and the distant beep of a monitor were the only sounds. Then Nurse Olivia Grant stepped forward, her training kicking in even as her heart clenched.

She knelt down slowly so she wouldn’t frighten him, her voice gentle and warm. She noticed the small cut above his brow, the way his shoulders hunched protectively around the baby, the instinctive way he positioned himself between Amelie and the world. “Sweetheart,” she said softly, “are you okay? Where are your parents?” Theo’s lips trembled, and he swallowed hard, as if forcing the words up from somewhere deep inside. “I… I need help. Please,” he whispered. “My sister, she’s hungry. And… we can’t go home.” His voice cracked on the last word, and something in Olivia’s chest broke open.