“They weren’t walking?” he asked quietly.
“They were delayed,” Alma said gently. “Not because of them. Because of neglect. Long hours alone. But they’re strong. They needed routine. Patience. Love. And they needed distance from her.”
The twins clung to Alma’s skirt.
“What did she do to you?” Daniel whispered.
Alma hesitated, then rolled up her sleeve.
Old bruises. Finger marks.
“She threatened me. Said if I spoke, my mother’s surgery would never happen. She planted jewelry in my bag. Took humiliating photos. And…” her voice broke, “she tried to poison the boys.”
“That’s impossible.”
Alma pulled out an old phone.
“I thought you wouldn’t believe me. So I gathered proof.”
Photos of bank transfers. Inflated invoices. A file labeled “TRUST_FUND_NL.”
Daniel’s eyes burned.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
She looked at the twins.
“Because they looked at me like I was the only safe thing left. And they didn’t deserve any of this.”
Noah tugged her hair. She laughed through tears.
That sound — real laughter — broke Daniel open.
He dropped to his knees on the dusty floor and cried. Not like a CEO. Like a father.
“I’m sorry,” he choked. “For not seeing. For not listening.”
Alma didn’t comfort him.