Chapter 2 – The Man Behind the Steel Door
The deafening crash echoed through the empty street.
Both girls instinctively turned toward the steel service door that had burst open.
A tall man stepped into the icy afternoon.
He wore a long black wool coat dusted with snow, his rugged face shadowed by exhaustion rather than anger. His eyes immediately landed on the two little girls sitting against the cracked wall.
More precisely...
On the homeless child.
For several long seconds, nobody moved.
The little girl in the camel-colored coat quietly shifted in front of her new friend, shielding her with her own small body.
"Please don't hurt her," she said, her voice trembling but steady.
The stranger stopped walking.
His expression changed.
Hurt?
No.
Heartbroken.
He slowly knelt until he was at eye level with them.
"I would never hurt her," he whispered.
The homeless girl stared at him, confused.
The man reached into his coat pocket with slow, careful movements and pulled out a worn photograph.
It showed a smiling young woman holding a baby wrapped in a blue blanket.
His hands shook.
"Her name was Anna," he said softly.
"She was my sister."
The homeless girl's breathing caught.
"My... my mommy was named Anna."
The man's face turned pale.
He looked at the child again.
Not at her torn clothes.
Not at the dirt covering her face.
But at the tiny silver birthmark beneath her left ear—the exact same mark every member of his family had carried for generations.
His knees nearly gave out.
"Oh, God..."
He covered his mouth.
"They told me you died."
The little girl blinked.
"I've always been alone."
The man closed his eyes.
May you like
"No..."
"You were stolen from your family."
