The girl hesitated. Life had taught her not to trust strangers easily. But the baby began crying harder.
After a moment she nodded.
Victor helped them into the back seat and wrapped them in a blanket from his trunk. The heater filled the car with warm air as he drove back toward the city.
The ride was mostly silent.
The girl—who said her name was Maya—kept watching everything nervously. Her baby sister, Lily, slowly stopped crying as warmth returned to her body.
When they arrived at Victor’s large mansion, it suddenly felt strangely empty compared to the fragile lives he had just brought inside.
His housekeeper Margaret opened the door and stared in shock.
“Mr. Victor… what happened?”
“They need food,” Victor said quickly. “Hot food, dry clothes, and a bath.”
That night the house changed.
Margaret prepared soup and warm milk while Victor found old clothes that could fit the children. Maya ate slowly but carefully watched to make sure Lily finished her bottle first.
That simple act of love broke something inside Victor.
Later that night Maya finally fell asleep beside her sister’s crib.
Victor sat in a chair nearby, watching them breathe.