As the sun set and the cold worsened, Maya wrapped Sophie in her only blanket.
“But you’ll freeze,” Sophie said.
“I’m used to it,” Maya lied, teeth chattering.
She held Sophie through the night, whispering comfort while the wind cut through her bones. When Sophie finally slept, Maya looked up and murmured, “Mom, just give me a little more strength.”
Across the city, Jonathan Hale was unraveling. Billionaire, developer, powerful—none of it mattered. His daughter was missing.
It was the housekeeper who spoke softly, “Sir… the garden door was open. And today marks two years since Mrs. Rebecca passed.”
Jonathan’s chest tightened. He knew Sophie had begged to visit her mother’s grave. He had always said no.
He drove straight to Rosehill Cemetery.
The gates were locked, but he climbed the wall and ran among the tombstones, shouting Sophie’s name until he saw them. Two girls on the ground. One wrapped in an old blanket. The other trembling, holding her with fierce devotion.
Jonathan fell to his knees, tears streaming.
“Are you her father?” Maya asked weakly.
He nodded.
“She’s okay,” Maya said. “I promised not to leave her.”
“You saved my daughter,” Jonathan whispered.