THE POOR FLOWER GIRL FOUND THREE BABIES IN THE RAIN… AND HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE A BILLIONAIRE’S LOST SONS You are seven years old when the rain starts to feel personal.

By the time you reach the abandoned warehouse on the edge of town, your arms are trembling.

You call it home because no one else wants it.

The roof leaks in two places. One corner smells like rust and mildew. You sleep on flattened cardboard behind a stack of shipping pallets and keep your treasures in a dented locker with no door: three paperbacks with missing covers, a chipped mug, a picture you once tore from a magazine of a Christmas tree bigger than your entire sleeping space, and a yellow ribbon you found in the gutter and decided looked lucky.

Now the warehouse also holds three babies.

You set the basket down on your blanket and stare at them.