A social worker eventually approached, a woman with weary eyes and a stack of forms. “I am Ms. Halberg from Child Protective Services. I need to ask some questions. Talia, can you tell me what happened?”
Talia explained the story with great effort, her small voice cracking at the edges. Ms. Halberg nodded sympathetically and then faced Grayson.
“Renee Summers will need at least a few days to stabilize. The protocol would be to place Talia in temporary foster care. There are no relatives listed.”
“No,” Grayson said sharply without thinking.
Ms. Halberg blinked. “I understand that you are concerned. However, you are not family. You are essentially a stranger to this child.”
Talia’s grip tightened around his arm. Grayson met the social worker’s gaze, his voice low and steady. “This child walked through snow alone to save her mother’s life. I am not letting her be taken off with strangers while her mother fights to recover. I can stay with her. I can take her home with me. Whatever paperwork is needed, I will handle it.”
Ms. Halberg studied him, searching for any sign of insincerity. “This is highly unusual. There would need to be a temporary guardianship agreement.”
“Then start the process,” Grayson replied.
The next few hours blurred into signatures, phone calls, proof of identity, emergency background checks, the sort of bureaucratic labyrinth usually reserved for people with deep patience. Somehow, Grayson endured it.
When permission was finally granted, Talia was allowed a brief visit to her mother. Renee whispered weakly, “My baby. I am so sorry. You were so brave.”
“This is Mr. Grayson,” Talia said proudly. “He is going to take care of me until you come home.”
Renee looked at him with gratitude so raw it almost hurt to hold her gaze. “I do not know what made you stay. Thank you.”
Grayson swallowed. “Rest. Focus on getting better. That is what matters.”
Taking Talia to his apartment felt like stepping into a life he barely recognized. The penthouse was pristine, modern, spotless. It also felt like a museum of someone pretending not to be lonely. Talia stood in the middle of his living room, her backpack still on her shoulders, her eyes wide.
“I feel small in a place like this,” she whispered shyly.
“Everyone feels small somewhere,” Grayson said. “We will make it feel less strange.”
