An eight-year-old girl was dragged into the middle of the street by her uncles, who scolded her and threw her out of the house simply because she added an extra spoonful of milk to her six-month-old twin brother, who was suffering from a fever. The girl held on tightly, her legs shaking on the sidewalk.
Suddenly, a luxury car pulled up. A man got out of it and, with one sentence, changed the fate of the three children forever.
“Stop crying, Lucas. Mateo, stop. I feel sorry for both of you.”
Her voice trembled, mixed with doubt and guilt. This was eight-year-old Sofía Castillo, who had been living under the roof of her uncle Ricardo Castillo and aunt Sandra Rojas in Pasadena since her parents died.
She was thin and small for her age, and her hands shook as she held her twin brother. Lucas’s body was on fire with fever. Mateo was panting, his lips dry and chapped. They were both crying uncontrollably, desperately thirsty.
Sofía opened the pantry and pulled out a half-empty carton of baby formula. She looked around anxiously, took a deep swallow, added another spoonful, and then shook the bottle until the powder was gone. The smell of the milk calmed the babies for a moment… so they began to cry even harder. loudly.
Sofía whispered as if she was praying:
“This time, stop crying.” Don’t notice, I beg you, my God.
The sound of heels behind her stopped.
Sandra Rojas was planted in the kitchen doorway, her gaze as sharp as blades.
“What do you think you’re doing, little one without hesitation?” I said, one spoon a day. Didn’t you hear me?
Sofía held Mateo close to her, and her voice broke:
“Auntie, they have a fever.” Please, just this once.
And, I swear to you that it’s worth the price :).
Without glancing at the babies, Sandra stopped the bottle from Sofía’s hands.
“You always have a reason.
With a sudden movement, white milk spilled onto the floor.
“If you want milk, come out and ask for it.”
Finally Ricardo Castillo got up from the sofa, his dark t-shirt full of the smell of tobacco. He leaned against the door as if he were attending a show.
“A useless boy lives with us, and now he pretends to be a thief.” If you are thirsty for milk, beg. This house does not feed thieves.
Sofía knelt down. One arm supported Lucas, the other held his hands, her voice trembling:
“Please, uncle, aunt, my brothers have a fever, they need milk.” I will wash the dishes, I will clean the floor, I will do the laundry, I will do double duty, I will do everything… But only…
Sandra approached, pushed Sofía’s hands away with a sharp blow and slapped her hard on the cheek.
“I told you, you still don’t understand?” He shouted, grabbing her hair to pull her off the floor.
Get out now!
“No, Auntie, just let the babies drink…”
Sofía clung to the edge of the table. Lucas cried a heartbreaking cry. Mateo was terrified of his brother’s neck. Ricardo approached, opened the front door wide, and spoke slowly, as if he were judging.
“From now on, you’re outside. Don’t come back until you know how to be respectful.
“Don’t let the neighbors witness this embarrassing scene.”
Sandra suddenly pushed him away, dragging Sofía and the two babies out.
“You live outside.” This house doesn’t feed on garbage like you.
The midday sun crushed the burning cement. Sofía’s bare feet sank into the cement, dirty and painful. She held the children with all her might. Lucas lay on his left arm, his body burning. Mateo clutched his chest, gasping for breath.
“I’m sorry, uncle, I’m sorry. Let me clean for a week if necessary, I won’t take any more milk, I swear…
Sandra sneered deceitfully from the balcony, like a reckless guard:
“What’s the value of a promise, coming from a thief?
Ricardo looked at the neighbors who were looking behind their curtains.
“Go back inside.” Neither of you seemed worried. “Go ahead, get away from my door now.”
He punched the iron grate, the sound of it echoing. The front door closed with a crash, and the bolt fell off. Sofia stood in front of the door. She carefully sat down on the sidewalk, took Mateo in her arms, and clapped her hands softly, pleading in a low voice:
“Sir, please let my brothers sit in the shade for a moment.”
No one answered. A silence reigned, as if tears had not yet existed. Across the street, a woman picked up her phone, put it down, looked around, and then quietly drew the curtains.
Daniel leaned lazily against an armchair, though the annoyance in his eyes was still noticeable.
David opened the blanket, added a pillow, and then laid the two children on their sides. He handed the thermometer to Sofia.
“Hold this for me.”
She went to the kitchen, boiled some water, took out some fever medicine, and then calmly returned to give it drop by drop. The children sighed slightly, then their breathing became regular again. Sofía leaned over, pressing her cheek against her brother’s forehead.
Her shoulders sighed slightly, as if she had just let go of a great burden. She turned and grabbed the hem of her t-shirt.
“I can sleep in a corner of the kitchen as long as my brothers have a place.”
Miguel sharia the sharia with a mocking laugh, without looking at him directly.
“Look, Dad?” He was used to serving. Suddenly
David turned.
“Enough.”
His voice, low, was firm and authoritative. Miguel sank into the chair. His eyes darkened, as if an invisible line had been drawn in front of him.
A security guard on the floor, named Hector, appeared at the door that Daniel had left open. He was about thirty years old, African-American, calm and kind.
“Are you okay, Mr. Ferrer?” he said, stopping the hug.
David nodded.
“Thank you, Hector.” All was well.
The door closed and privacy was restored. Then David put a can of chicken soup on the fire, got out butter, cheese, and sandwich bread. He quietly prepared a grilled sandwich.
The smell of melted butter filled the soft, warm air. Sofía raised her head, watching her hands as if they were performing a sacred ritual. Daniel looked up and shrugged.
“We have a meeting at 7 p.m. Eat first,” David said.
The meal was simple: soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, and a plate of finely chopped apples. Sofía looked at her plate, then at her siblings. Tapping her spoon slowly, she took only a few sips of soup. The bread remained intact.
Miguel noticed this, didn’t say anything, and pushed his plate of apples towards her. Sofia jumped.
“These aren’t for me.” You should eat them.
“Don’t you like apples?” she replied coldly, looking away.
Daniel laughed, took a piece of bread, and chewed it slowly, as if he was enjoying their discomfort.
David didn’t comment, he just filled Sofía’s bowl.
“Come on, eat.” Tonight, you’ll need the energy to watch over them.
After dinner, David made a short phone call, his voice calm and low:
“I need a pediatrician to see them. No, it’s not an emergency, but tonight. Thank you.”
He hung up the phone, went back into the living room and arranged the blanket over the children. Mateo shivered slightly, then calmed down. Lucas turned his face to Sofia’s hand.
“Your room is here.”
David led Sofía down a small hallway and opened a small room, where the bed was already made with clean sheets.
“Just leave the pillow a little higher for Mateo.” Just let Lucas out so he can be reached more easily.
Sofía stood at the door, hesitant.
“You—” Are you really letting us stay here? You’re already by the door.
David turned on the light in his own room across the hall to show her where to call if needed.
“If anything happens, just call me.”
He nodded, his eyes fixed on his siblings. It was as if his entire body was ready to be split in two so he could watch both sides at once.
“I’ll clean the kitchen, wash the sheets…” he began.
“You just sleep tonight,” David said abruptly.
Miguel leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. He watched the scene like an outsider, but he stood in the doorway. Daniel had already gone out onto the balcony to make a phone call, his wild laughter fading into the night. Sofía returned to the dining room to get the old diaper bag. She walked carefully, as if afraid of getting the floor dirty.
David handed her a paper bag containing a few little bodysuits he had bought, some cloth diapers, and a jar of diaper rash cream. Sofía took it with trembling hands.
“Thank you, sir.” We’ll talk again tomorrow.
“For now, let them sleep.”
The lights dimmed. Lying on her side, she held Mateo in one hand, the other resting on Lucas’ back. He bent down and whispered to his younger brother,
“We’re leaving tomorrow.” Don’t get used to this place. This isn’t our home. It’s just one night. They’ve given us too much.
The children’s breathing became regular. Sofía raised her head, looked at the legs of the bed and saw David’s coat draped across her legs, like a temporary security barrier. She closed her eyes, not to sleep, but simply to listen. The door to the room opened slightly. A person landed in the embrace, without entering.
Miguel. His eyes focused on Sofía’s frail shoulders, falling over the sleeping children, then resting on his father’s coat. Something stirred inside him: suspicion, anxiety, a silent trace he hadn’t yet named. He closed the door noiselessly, but his hand remained on the handle, still warm, carrying a question he didn’t dare to blurt out. He leaned against the wall, his hand on the handle.
He heard the regular breathing of the two children and the whisper of the young woman, telling her sister,
“Don’t get used to this place.”
These words sank into his chest like thorns. He left the hallway, passed through the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and drank it in one go, but that didn’t ease the oppression he felt.
“Sign this. Confirm the temporary transfer. The children will be returned to their families.” David gently placed Lucas in the portable bassinet, then raised his head, his voice aching: “They’ll send them back to this hell.”
A young agent near Durán glanced slightly into the distance, while Durán smiled proudly.
“You’re stalling the process. Don’t complicate things unnecessarily.
Miguel took a step forward: “Dad, I’ll call the lawyer. “
Do it. Durán replied hesitantly. “But time is running out.”
The elevator doors suddenly opened. A woman in a dark coat, her hair tied in a ponytail, entered, out of breath after running. She held up her insignia: “Inspector María Santos, LAPD. I need to speak to Mr. Ferrer and Chef Durán’s team immediately.”
The latter turned, a thin, sarcastic smile on her lips: “Santos, what are you doing here? Maria didn’t smile
. She placed a file on the table, her voice clear: “The accident that killed the children’s parents was not an accident. The technical report confirmed that the brakes were sabotaged. I’ve sent it to the prosecutor. This means that Ricardo Castillo and Sandra Rojas are being investigated for alleged abuse and conspiracy to appropriate property. »
The living room felt dead. Sofía looked at María as if she were looking at an approaching raft. Miguel opened his mouth and closed it. Daniel suddenly stopped joking.
Durán smiled very thinly. “This report is not a formal accusation. The responsibility is still yours.”
María nodded calmly: “That’s true, but you can’t force children to surrender when they are exposed to clear danger. The DFA must be notified immediately. I sent an emergency email with evidence, and I will file a written report if there is an attempt to return the children to an abusive environment. »
Durán looked at María for a few seconds, his jaw clenched. He closed his notebook with a sharp gesture and put the pen in his pocket. “Very good. It’s your responsibility if anything happens to them. Then
, he turned to David, and he said, “We’re going back. Don’t take the children somewhere else. They’re staying here. Answer
David, calm but firm, “They stay here, yes. »
Durán pivota vers l’ascenseur, et juste avant d’y entrer, murmura à son collegé : «Appelle Baez. Rappelle-lui de ne laisser fuiter aucune preuve. » La porte se ferma dans un cliquetis metallica, et, un instant, son reflet distordu passa dans l’acier luisant.
Après le départ de Durán, María relaxes ses épaules et parla doucement : «Désolée d’avoir débarqué comme ça, mais je devais vous arrêter immediately. »
David hocha la tête : «Thank you. »
María se tourna vers Sofía : « Peux-tu me raconter brièvement ce qui s’est passé hier soir? Juste les faits principaux. »
Sofía avala sa saliva et parla d’une voix calme mais chargée d’émotions :
«Ils nous ont mis à la porte. Ma tante a renversé le lait au sol. Mon uncle a dit que l’on devait mendier. Mon petit-frère avait de la fièvre. Monsieur Ferrer nous a donné du milk et appelé un médecin. Je n’ai pas été enlevée. »
María nota quelques lignes sur son carnet.
« Well. Je deposerai le rapport aujourd’hui. Quelqu’un du DCFS viendra t’interviewer, mais la situation a déjà changé. N’aie pas peur. »
Miguel looked at María and then at his father, and whispered in a low voice, “I’m just at home now.” Shrugged
Daniel without objection. Closed
of María the file, adding: “If someone comes without a clear prescription, don’t open the door. Call me directly. Taken
said David his card, “I will.” Then
María left.
Sofía stood for a few seconds, then rushed into her father’s arms, silently sobbing, “Please…” They shouldn’t have sent us back.
David placed a reassuring hand on her head, his gaze quiet but his hand firm.
“No one will take you away.”
Sofía nodded and went back into the room to get Mateo. Miguel watched her from a corner of the kitchen, then turned to David, his voice hoarse: “Do you really think you’re going to hide them? We’re not an orphanage. »
David sat down calmly, his eyes determined, “You heard what the police said. These children need security. And they have this security in us. »