She laid the child on her worn sofa and worked fast — cool compress, fever reducer, steady hands.
“Hey sweetheart,” Bella whispered gently. “I’m Bella. I’m going to help you, okay?”
The girl’s eyes fluttered open.
“Mom…” she murmured weakly.
The man stiffened like someone had struck him.
Bella swallowed.
“I’m not your mom, baby,” she said softly. “But I’ll take care of you tonight.”
Forty minutes passed. Then an hour.
The fever began to drop.
The girl — Mia — grabbed Bella’s hand.
“Your hand is warm,” she murmured. “Like Mommy’s.”
When Bella looked up, the man was staring out the rain-streaked window… silently crying.
“My name is Gabriel Salazar,” he said finally. “That’s my daughter. Mia.”
Bella didn’t ask questions.
Sometimes giving someone a safe night was enough.
She heated her last can of beans and handed him the bowl.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I already ate,” she lied.
By morning, a black SUV pulled up outside.
Two men in suits stepped out.
Gabriel made a quick call.
“They’re here,” he said.
Mia clung to Bella’s legs.
“I don’t want to leave.”
Bella knelt and hugged her.
“You have to go with your dad, sweetheart.”