“How… do you know that?” he asked, barely audible.
The boy stepped back. “It’s not your legs that are broken, sir,” he said gently. “It’s your heart. The one that stopped when she died.”
The word hung in the air.
“She?” Jonathan breathed.
But the boy had already turned. “Wait!” Jonathan shouted, ordering his security team to follow. Yet the child disappeared into the crowd as if swallowed by the city itself.
That night, Jonathan sat alone in his vast estate, the boy’s words echoing through the quiet halls. The crash. The guilt. The day he lost Margaret. Since then, grief had twisted into anger, isolating him from everyone.
He hired investigators to find the child. Weeks passed with no results. Meanwhile, his niece and nephew, Ryan and Sophie Harrington, grew uneasy. They worried their uncle’s strange obsession might threaten their inheritance.
One evening, while searching through Margaret’s old belongings, Jonathan discovered a photograph hidden inside a drawer. In it, Margaret cradled a baby with familiar eyes—the same deep, searching eyes as the boy from the street. On the back were handwritten words: “Our secret. I’ll always protect you.”
His pulse quickened.