Nearby sat an old, rusted wheelbarrow. Jalen wiped it out with his bare hands, ignoring the sting as metal cut his skin. Then he carefully lifted the baby inside.
“You eat good,” he muttered.
The baby looked up—then suddenly laughed.
A real laugh. Bright. Free.
Jalen froze.
The baby clapped, kicking his feet with joy. When Jalen pushed the wheelbarrow slowly, the laughter grew louder.
Jalen laughed too—without realizing it.
For a moment, he wasn’t homeless. He wasn’t invisible. He wasn’t unwanted.
He was just a big brother making a baby smile.
Then the joy shattered.
Heavy footsteps thundered at the alley entrance.
“MY SON!” a man’s voice roared.
Jalen’s blood ran cold.
Everyone knew that voice—Victor Caldwell, billionaire industrialist.
Jalen stopped moving. The baby still giggled, unaware of the storm closing in.
Guards flooded the street. Shouts echoed. Panic filled the air.
Jalen pushed the wheelbarrow behind a broken wall, heart slamming so hard it hurt.
Too late.
A guard spotted them. “There!”
The man grabbed Jalen’s arm, yanking him to the ground. “What did you do to the baby?”
“Nothing!” Jalen cried. “He was alone—he was scared!”
The baby whimpered.
A deeper voice thundered. “STOP.”