Without waiting for an answer, he took off his jacket and offered it. “This will keep you warm.” To his surprise, the child didn’t flinch when he approached to drape the jacket over her shoulders.
The fabric swallowed her whole, but she seemed to relax a little with the warmth. “Are you hungry?” he tried again. “I have chocolate in the car.”
At the word “chocolate,” something subtly changed in the girl’s gaze. “Let’s get out of here, okay?” Warren extended his hand hesitantly. “Can I carry you? It’ll be faster.”
When she didn’t protest, Warren took it as a yes. Carefully, he picked her up, surprised by how light she was. The girl didn’t resist, just adjusted her bear so it was secure between them.
As he exited the kennel, Warren spotted the first trucks arriving. Jackson ran toward him, his face a mask of confusion. “Mr. Cade, I canceled everything as you ordered. But what’s going…” He stopped abruptly, noticing the child in his boss’s arms. “My God, it’s true. There really was a child in there.”
“She was in the last compartment,” Warren explained quickly. “The demolition is suspended until further notice. I need to take her to a hospital.”
“But the costs of the delay, sir… The contractual penalty…”
“I don’t care about the costs,” Warren interrupted. “A child almost died today. The costs are irrelevant.”
Without waiting for a reply, he hurried to his car, shielding the girl from the curious stares of the workers who were starting to gather. In the car, he seated her in the back and turned on the heater. The morning was cold, and she was still trembling despite the jacket.
“Better now?” he asked, adjusting the temperature. The girl didn’t answer, but her eyes watched his every move, attentive and suspicious. Warren searched the glove compartment and found a chocolate bar.
He unwrapped it and offered it to her. “Here. It’s for you.” She hesitated for a long moment before reaching out her small hand and taking the chocolate.
She didn’t eat it immediately, just held it, as if waiting for permission. “You can eat it,” Warren encouraged. “It’s all yours.”
Only then did she take a small bite, her eyes never leaving his face. After the first bite, she devoured the rest quickly, confirming what Warren suspected: she was famished.
“We’re going to the doctor, okay? Just to make sure you’re all right.” Warren started the car and drove away from the property, watching in the rearview mirror as the girl curled up in his jacket, creating a protective cocoon around herself and the bear. During the twenty-minute drive to the nearest hospital, he tried to start a conversation several times.
“What’s your name? Where’s your mom? How did you end up in that place?” No answer. The girl remained silent, as if she had forgotten how to speak or had decided not to speak anymore. At the hospital, Warren’s imposing presence—his expensive suit beneath his absent jacket, his luxury watch, his authoritative tone—ensured immediate attention.
A kind nurse took over the girl’s care, but the child unexpectedly clutched Warren’s hand when they tried to take her away. “It’s okay,” he assured, surprised by her reaction. “They just want to examine you, see if you’re well. I’ll be waiting here.” The girl hesitated, her eyes seeking confirmation in his face. Finally, she let go of his hand and followed the nurse with reluctant steps, the bear firmly clasped in her embrace.
While waiting, Warren made calls: first to his lawyer, explaining the situation and asking for legal guidance; then to his assistant, canceling all his appointments for the day; and finally to the supervisor, confirming the demolition suspension indefinitely. “Mr. Cade.” Warren looked up.
A middle-aged doctor observed him with a serious expression. “How is she?” he asked, standing up. “Come with me, please.”
Warren followed the doctor to a small office adjacent to the pediatric ward. “The girl is malnourished and mildly dehydrated,” the doctor explained, consulting his notes. “She has some old bruises, but nothing recent or indicative of systematic abuse. I’d say she spent a few days without proper care.”
“And why doesn’t she speak?” Warren asked.
“It could be trauma. Children react differently to extreme stress situations. Selective mutism is common in cases like this. She needs to feel safe first.” Warren nodded, processing the information.
“Were you able to identify her?”
“No. No documents, no identification. We’ve already notified the authorities and checked the missing children system, but so far, nothing. It’s as if she doesn’t officially exist.”
Warren felt a knot in his stomach. “What happens now?”
“Well, physically, she’ll be fine. She’ll need a special diet for a few weeks to regain proper weight. As for the psychological aspect, it’s hard to say without knowing what she’s been through.”
“And legally?”
“Ah, about that.” The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Child Protective Services has already been notified. A social worker should arrive any moment.”
As if on cue, a severe-looking woman knocked on the open door. “Dr. Harrison? I’m Eleanor Michaels from Child Protective Services.” She entered, directing an appraising look at Warren. “And you must be Mr. Cade, who found the minor.”
Warren stood up, extending his hand. “Yes. Warren Cade.”
Eleanor shook his hand briefly and turned to the doctor. “How is she?” The doctor repeated the diagnosis, adding that the girl could be discharged in a few hours, provided she received proper care.
“Great,” Eleanor said, opening her folder. “I’ve already arranged a spot at the State Shelter. She’ll stay there while we investigate her case and look for relatives.”
Warren felt a strange pang in his chest. “Shelter?”
“Yes, Mr. Cade. It’s standard procedure. The shelter has adequate facilities and trained professionals to handle cases like this.”
Something in the clinical way she spoke deeply bothered Warren. He thought of the scared little girl he had found in that dark kennel. He thought of how she had clutched his hand as if he were her only anchor in an unknown world. He thought of the almost nonexistent weight of her body when he carried her. “No,” he said firmly, surprising himself.
“Excuse me?” Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
“She’s coming with me.”
Eleanor and the doctor exchanged glances. “Mr. Cade,” the social worker began, her tone condescending, “it’s not that simple. There are procedures, evaluations, legal requirements.”
“Then tell me what I need to do,” Warren interrupted, using the same decisive tone he employed in tough negotiations. “I want to assume temporary guardianship of her while all this is sorted out.”
Eleanor studied him for a moment, as if trying to ascertain his intentions. “Why?” she finally asked. “You have no obligation to this child.”
Warren had no ready answer for that, at least not one that made logical sense. How could he explain the panic he’d felt hearing that cry in the kennel, minutes before demolition? How could he justify the absolute certainty that he couldn’t just hand her over to the system and go back to his life?
“Because I found her,” he said simply. “And maybe that means something.”
Eleanor sighed, massaging her temples. “Mr. Cade, I understand your humanitarian impulse, but there are protocols to follow. We’d need to do a background check, a home inspection, character interviews. And even then, the final decision rests with the judge.”
“Do whatever it takes,” Warren responded, already pulling out his phone. “My lawyer will be in touch today to expedite the process. In the meantime, I see no reason why she can’t stay with me instead of going to an impersonal shelter.”
The doctor, who had been watching the exchange with interest, interjected, “If I may offer a medical opinion, stability is crucial right now. The girl has shown trust in Mr. Cade. She held his hand, accepted food from him. That’s significant.”
Eleanor considered for a moment. “I can authorize emergency temporary guardianship, subject to judicial approval within seventy-two hours,” she finally conceded. “But I will need to visit your residence today, and you’ll have to sign several documents assuming responsibility.”
“No problem,” Warren said, feeling an unexpected relief. When he returned to the room where the girl was, he found her sitting on the bed, already clean and wearing hospital clothes. Her bear had also been cleaned and rested in her lap. Her eyes subtly lit up when she saw him, although her face remained serious.
Warren pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “Hi again,” he said softly. “You look better.”
She watched him in silence, but something in her posture had changed. She seemed less tense, less scared. “I was thinking,” Warren continued, unsure how to proceed, “that maybe you could come to my house for a while. I have a spare room, and we can buy you new clothes—and for your friend, too,” he added, pointing to the bear.