My aunt shoved my feverish twins and me onto the scorching street, sneering, “Go beg, trash!” I pleaded with tears, “Please, just some milk.” Nobody cared until a billionaire in a Lamborghini stopped. Staring at my necklace, his voice shook: “Who is your mother?” When I said her name, he froze as the color drained from his face…

Chapter 3: The Reluctant Brothers

He looked up to thank her, but the words caught in his throat when he realized the back seat wasn’t empty. Two young men were already seated. The one on the left was wearing a gray shirt with his tie loosened, his eyes serious and direct, his jaw clenched in irritation. They were Miguel Ferrer and Daniel Ferrer, David’s 22-year-old twin sons, raised in Los Angeles and accustomed to everything being punctual, impeccable, and orderly.

Miguel was the first to raise his head, frowning at the sight of Sofía and the two young children. Daniel shot a quick glance at his father, his forehead clearly furrowed in disgust. No one spoke immediately. The brief silence was heavy, like a stone thrown into the water, whose ripples expanded with its first circle. David leaned slightly, beckoning Sofía to come closer. “Come with me,” he repeated, and then guided her hand as he placed Mateo beside him.

While he held Lucas firmly in his arms, the car door remained open. The two young men’s gazes revealed undisguised resistance. The air inside the car tensed just as the story was beginning. David bent down, placing Lucas in the back seat. Carefully. He placed the baby gently on her lap and then helped Sofía climb into the seat. “Hold Mateo tight.” Sofía nodded and covered her little brother’s chest with her coat.

He hesitated, looking at the two young men already waiting inside. One had a serious, restrained expression. The other had sharp eyes and a mocking gaze. Miguel Ferrer looked up first. His voice was low but sharp. “Dad, who are they?” “Children who need help,” David said in a deep tone. He fastened Sofia’s seatbelt and checked Mateo’s collar. Daniel Ferrer snorted and gave a short laugh. “You’re used to this by now. Your compassion is always unfounded.” Sofia blushed and hugged her brother tighter.

“I’m not asking for money, I just need milk for my brothers.” Her words made David swallow something hard in his throat. He started the engine, his hands firm on the wheel. We’d stop first at a nearby convenience store. The road slid by behind them. Sofía kept Mateo propped up in a half-sitting, half-cradled position so he could breathe better. Miguel glanced in the rearview mirror. His irritation was evident. “Can’t you see they’re using you? Once they get a hold of you, you’ll never be free.”

David didn’t respond. He turned into a corner convenience store in Boil Heights and braked gently. “Stay inside. Lock your doors.” He looked at Sofia. “I’ll be right back.” Inside the car, the silence grew heavier. Daniel leaned his head back on the seat and tapped his finger on the dashboard. “See, Miguel? Our afternoon meeting is over.” Miguel didn’t take his eyes off the mirror. “Shut up.” His gaze shifted to Sofia. His tone was dry.

What’s your name? Sofía Castillo. This is Lucas and Mateo. He took a breath. They’re only six months old. Miguel met two pairs of eyes reddened by tears and then turned toward the window. “And where are your parents?” Sofía tightened her hug around Mateo. “They kicked me out. I begged them for milk for the twins. They refused.” Just as he finished speaking, the car door opened again. David returned with two paper bags and placed them on the ground.