The doctor finally returned. “The baby is very critical… but responding. The next 48 hours matter.”
Lana cried with relief and threw herself into Alexander’s arms. Something inside him thawed.
Investigations began. Reports, interviews, assessments. Through it all, Lana stayed close to Alexander—her only anchor.
Daniela insisted procedures must be followed. Alexander answered: “Ask Lana what she wants.”
Weeks later, in juvenile court, the judge asked:
“Lana, what do you want?”
She looked up, hands shaking.
“I want to stay with him. He didn’t leave me alone. He didn’t let my sister die.”
The prosecutor objected, but Alexander spoke:
“This girl knows abandonment better than any of us. She only wants not to be alone. I’m not asking for favors. I’m asking to be responsible. To be a family.”
Silence. Then the judge ruled:
“Provisional custody granted to Mr. Alexander Moreira.”
Lana clung to him. He let a tear fall.
Bringing them home made his mansion feel enormous. New sounds filled it—laughing, small footsteps, drawings taped to walls.
One night Lana left a paper on the table: a tall man, a girl with braids, a smiling baby. Underneath: family.
Months later, custody became full adoption.
The company still ran, but it no longer ran him. Bedtime stories mattered more. So did school festivals and hair braiding and giggles in the hallway.
He saved two girls from an alley. And without noticing, they saved him from a life with no pulse.
Because family isn’t always blood. Sometimes it’s the moment you choose not to look away.
See more on the next page
Advertisement
