Chapter 7
At first, she used the few dollars left in a drawer. Then she searched empty apartments. Cans, pasta, forgotten crackers. She learned to light the small stove. She used damp cloths on Noah when he had fevers. She kept him quiet when strangers came into the building. Once, someone from social services had appeared, and Lily hid with Noah in the basement because she thought they would be separated.
She stopped going to school because teachers would ask where her mother was.
She searched dumpsters.
She stole food when she had to.
She hated herself for it.
But Noah was hungry.
“I tried asking for help,” she said, voice shaking. “People looked through me. Or they looked at me like I was dirty. One lady gave me five dollars but told me not to spend it on drugs. I didn’t even know what that meant.”
Ethan moved closer and placed an arm carefully around her shoulders.
This time, Lily did not pull away.
“None of that was your fault,” he said.
“I should have found Mom.”
“You were a child.”
“I still am,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Ethan said. “You still are. That means the adults failed you, not the other way around.”
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“Do you think she’ll come back?”
It was the question she had been carrying like a stone.
“I don’t know,” Ethan said. “But I promise I’ll help find the truth. And no matter what we learn, you and Noah are not alone anymore.”
She looked at him then.
Really looked at him.
“If she doesn’t want us?”
“Then she is missing two amazing children.”
Lily cried quietly against his shirt.
He held her as long as she needed.
The next morning, Ethan contacted Social Services officially and asked for Rachel Miller, a case worker recommended by the hospital.
Rachel was practical, sharp-eyed, and not impressed by wealth.
“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Walker,” she said in her cramped office, “but vulnerable children are not adopted by good intentions overnight.”
“I understand.”
“I’m not sure you do. You are a single man with no child-rearing history and a high-demand career. The system will ask hard questions.”
“It should.”
That seemed to earn a small amount of respect.
“The first step is temporary foster placement under supervision. Home visits. Background checks. Proof of income. Character references. Interviews. We will search for the mother and any relatives. If relatives are found and suitable, they will be considered.”
Ethan’s chest tightened.
“And if they’re not?”
“Then we discuss longer-term placement.”
“I want them to stay together.”
“So do I,” Rachel said. “But wanting and proving are different things.”
“Tell me what to prove.”
Rachel looked at him for a long time.
Then handed him the folder.
“Start here.”
The following weeks were full of paperwork, doctor appointments, school enrollment, home visits, and small domestic miracles.
Lily started fifth grade again, behind but determined. Her teacher described her as bright, observant, and painfully self-sufficient. Noah began preschool once he was strong enough, crying the first day until Lily gave him Mr. Cuddles and Ethan promised to return after lunch.
“Always?” Noah asked.
“Always.”
Lily heard the word from across the hallway.
May you like
She remembered it.
Rachel Miller visited the apartment regularly. She inspected bedrooms, checked meal routines, watched interactions, asked uncomfortable questions, and wrote notes Ethan wanted to read but did not ask to see.
