On any other day, Michael would never have followed a homeless child through alleys and service corridors. But this wasn’t any other day—it marked a year since his life had split apart.
As they walked, Jules spoke of her mother, Angela Carter, who vanished after eating chocolates given by a well-dressed woman. Men in suits came later, promised help, and Angela was never seen again. Michael’s stomach tightened. He knew how easily systems erased the vulnerable.
They reached a rear entrance of the building—marble floors, security guards, glass walls. And beside him stood a child who knew where to sleep without getting wet.
“I have to go inside,” Michael said. “Two hours. Can you wait? I’ll take you to lunch.”
Jules hesitated, then nodded.
“But if you don’t come back, I leave.”
The meeting passed in a blur. Numbers floated past as Michael imagined Jules outside, alone.
When he returned downstairs, chaos erupted.
A security guard was shouting, gripping Jules’s arm.
“I told you—you can’t stay here!”
“Let her go!” Michael roared.
Jules stood tall.
“I just wanted somewhere dry.”