Emma watched every street through the window, memorizing escape routes. Noah began to cry.
“He’s hungry,” she said, guilt thick in her voice. “I gave him water, but—”
“Ethan,” Michael leaned forward. “First pharmacy. We need formula, bottles, diapers. Everything. And food.”
Then, to Emma:
“Anything you want.”
She stared at him, confused.
“We eat whatever shows up,” she said.
Michael swallowed hard, thinking of the lavish breakfast he’d barely touched that morning.
At the pharmacy, he felt ridiculous among aisles of baby products. He didn’t know brands or sizes. He only knew every second mattered.
“I need everything for a newborn,” he told the clerk. “And for a little girl. Clothes. Shoes. The best you have. Price doesn’t matter.”
Emma stared at the bags when he returned.
“All that… for us?”
“For you,” he said. “To start.”
At a gas station, Michael prepared the formula with trembling hands, testing it on his wrist like he’d seen once. When he handed the bottle to Emma, she held it like gold.
Noah drank desperately.
For the first time, Emma’s face showed something other than vigilance.
Relief.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Michael said. “Every child deserves to eat.”
Emma fell asleep against the window on the way. Michael wondered how long it had been since she’d slept without fear.
When they reached the mansion, reality hit.
“Sir,” Ethan said carefully, “Mrs. Carter is home.”
Michael closed his eyes briefly.
Laura.
His wife. Elegant. Composed. Slowly fading after years of failed treatments and unspoken grief.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said.
The front door opened. Laura stepped out, perfect as ever—until she saw Michael, muddy, beside a small girl holding a baby.
“Michael,” she said slowly. “What is this?”
“They were abandoned,” he said. “They need help.”
Laura’s eyes moved to Emma. To the baby’s thin face.
Something old and buried flickered in her gaze.
“They need a bath,” she said softly. “Clean clothes. Food.”
Then she looked at Michael.
“And then you and I will talk.”
Inside, Emma moved like she was on another planet—marble floors, chandeliers, silence. Laura showed her a guest room.
“You can bathe here,” she said gently. “Do you want help?”
“I can do it myself,” Emma said quickly.
“And Noah?”
Laura hesitated, then opened her arms.
“May I… hold him?”
Emma looked at Michael. He nodded.