The girl startled. She instinctively shifted, tightening the cloth that secured the baby, as though preparing to be turned away or escorted off the property. Her gaze flicked toward the guards, then cautiously returned to Graham.
“My name is Addison Pierce,” she said quietly. “I’m not here for money. I just… I need a job. Any kind of work. My sister is hungry.”
Graham observed her with a focus so intense it made the guards uneasy. Her eyes were sharp and wary, her expression guarded. Fear was there—but so was determination. This wasn’t an act. It was endurance, refined by necessity.
He lifted his hand slightly, signaling security to step back.
“Get food,” he said under his breath. “And water.”
Moments later, a tray appeared at the gate—bread, soup, fruit. Graham watched as Addison accepted it, her hands shaking.
She didn’t eat.
Instead, she broke the bread into small pieces, feeding the baby first whenever the child stirred. Only after the infant settled did Addison take a few careful sips of soup, slow and measured, as if afraid it might vanish.
Something tight and unfamiliar twisted in Graham’s chest.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asked.