The child gazed up at her with wide, innocent eyes, his voice small but determined. "You hit me, so now you have to take care of me."

Amy studied the boy carefully, concern knitting her brows. "Do you need me to bring you to the hospital?"

He hesitated, then gave a tiny nod.

"Should we call your parents first?" Amy asked gently.

At that, the boy shook his head fiercely, his expression hardening with defiance.

Amy's heart clenched. Was he hiding something? Did he fear going home? The thought of neglect or worse twisted inside her.

Either way, a medical check-up was necessary. If there were signs of abuse, she wouldn’t hesitate to involve the authorities.

Softening her tone, she said, "Alright, let me just tell my friend, and then we’ll go."

She took his small hand in hers—cold, just like Liam’s when he was sick.

Liam’s condition was congenital, something no medicine could fix overnight. She remembered the countless nights spent by his bedside, her heart breaking with every ragged breath, every cry she couldn’t soothe.

She had tried everything—holistic remedies, therapies, even homemade tonics.

Maybe it was that same maternal instinct that made her ache for this boy now.

The child seemed startled when she took his hand, but then his fingers curled around hers, gripping tightly as if afraid she’d let go.

Amy smiled reassuringly, but he ducked his head, suddenly shy.

She led him back to Samantha’s room.

Samantha was catching her breath after her performance, sipping a drink. When Amy returned, she grinned. "Celeste! Back already? Come on, let’s—" She paused, squinting. "Wait, is that Liam with you?"

The dim lighting made it hard to see clearly.

"No, it’s not Liam," Amy corrected. "I accidentally bumped into him in the hall. He’s not feeling well, so I’m taking him to the hospital."

As they stepped inside, Samantha got a better look. "Oh my—what an adorable little thing! He’s just as cute as your Liam."

She reached out playfully, as if to pinch his cheek, but the boy dodged, pressing himself against Amy’s side with a scowl.

Samantha laughed. "Feisty, huh?"

Amy shook her head. "He doesn’t like being touched by strangers."

Samantha shrugged. "What about his parents? Are you sure it’s okay to take him? We don’t want anyone accusing us of kidnapping."

Amy turned to the boy again. "Are you sure you don’t want to call—"

Before she could finish, his grip on her hand tightened painfully. "No! I don’t want them!"

Amy exchanged a glance with Samantha, who sighed. "Alright, fine. Let’s get him checked out."

They took him to the hospital, running a few tests. Thankfully, there were no signs of injury—or abuse.

Amy exhaled in relief, but questions still nagged at her. If nothing was wrong at home, why was he so desperate to avoid his family?

Just as the thought crossed her mind, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall.

Then—the door burst open.

A tall, commanding figure strode in, his presence filling the room with urgency.