Those words stopped Daniel Brooks right at the gates of his London mansion. Daniel was one of the richest men in the city, a billionaire known for power, cold decisions, and a life surrounded by walls and guards. He was used to people begging for money, favors, or attention, but something about this voice forced him to turn around. Standing behind him was a teenage girl, thin and shaking, her clothes torn and dirty, her face pale from hunger and exhaustion.
The girl couldn’t be older than eighteen. Her hair was messy, her hands rough and trembling, and on her back was a tiny baby wrapped tightly in an old, faded cloth. The baby slept quietly, too quietly, with weak breaths that made Daniel uncomfortable. His first instinct was to wave his guards over and walk away, but before he could move, his eyes landed on something that made his heart stop.