Towering mansions. Iron gates. Security cameras. Perfect frozen lawns even in winter. Lakeshore Drive—where people never counted coins before buying coffee.

Marcus knew immediately he didn’t belong there. A homeless kid near houses like these meant trouble. Police. Security. Accusations.

He lowered his head and quickened his pace—

Until he heard it.

Not a scream.
Not a tantrum.

A soft, broken sob—fragile, almost swallowed by the wind.

Marcus froze.

He followed the sound and saw her behind a tall black gate nearly ten feet high.

A little girl sat on the front steps of a massive mansion.

She wore thin pink pajamas with a cartoon princess on them. No shoes. Her long hair was dusted with snow. Her entire body shook so violently her teeth clicked.

Every instinct screamed at Marcus to walk away.