The girl’s eyes widened. “Really? I thought she went to heaven with Grandma…”
He grabbed his phone.
“This is Alexander Moreira. Pediatric emergency. Prepare the ICU.”
He held out his arms.
“Give her to me. We have to run.”
She hesitated, looked him over, then handed over the only person she had left. And she followed him clutching a torn plastic bag of “important things.”
The city outside kept buzzing, oblivious.
Traffic was torture. Every red light felt like a blade. The baby’s breathing was shallow. The girl—Lana—whispered, “I always fed her first… but she got quiet… I thought she was gone.”
At the hospital, doctors rushed in.
“Severe pneumonia. Malnutrition. ICU.”
Letting go of her was painful. “This time,” he thought, “there’s still something to do.”
Then he felt Lana tug his sleeve.
“Please don’t leave. If you go, we’ll be alone again.”
And he knew, without understanding why, that he was already tied to her.
Hours passed in cold hallways and bitter coffee. Lana refused to leave his side. Social worker Daniela Campos noticed.
“Are you related to them?” she asked.
“No. I found them. If I hadn’t stopped, the baby would be dead.”
“Even so, the Council must intervene,” she said. “We can’t let minors stay with a stranger just because he has… resources.”
The word stung.
The doctor finally returned. “The baby is very critical… but responding. The next 48 hours matter.”
Lana cried with relief and threw herself into Alexander’s arms. Something inside him thawed.
Investigations began. Reports, interviews, assessments. Through it all, Lana stayed close to Alexander—her only anchor.
Daniela insisted procedures must be followed. Alexander answered: “Ask Lana what she wants.”
Weeks later, in juvenile court, the judge asked:
“Lana, what do you want?”
She looked up, hands shaking.
“I want to stay with him. He didn’t leave me alone. He didn’t let my sister die.”
The prosecutor objected, but Alexander spoke:
“This girl knows abandonment better than any of us. She only wants not to be alone. I’m not asking for favors. I’m asking to be responsible. To be a family.”
Silence. Then the judge ruled:
“Provisional custody granted to Mr. Alexander Moreira.”
Lana clung to him. He let a tear fall.
Bringing them home made his mansion feel enormous. New sounds filled it—laughing, small footsteps, drawings taped to walls.