A boy found a girl in a dump… When they found out who she was, their hair stood ON END…

A medallion. Silver. Engraved.

He lifted it. Inside was a photograph. No initials.

Just a crest. He didn’t know it belonged to a prominent Chicago family. He didn’t know a multimillion-dollar reward had been offered for this child.

He didn’t know searches were underway across the country. He only knew she was shivering. And he had to protect her.

Ethan sat by the fire, watching the faint flames light up the baby’s face. Shadows danced on the car’s walls, like a warning. He felt her breathing against his chest.

Warm. Alive. Fragile.

Night fell quickly. Outside, the wind howled, scraping against the metal walls. Sometimes, he heard footsteps.

Or thought he did. He didn’t sleep. He listened every minute.

Every second, he feared someone would come and take her. Not because he knew who she was. But because she was now his.

By morning, he made a decision. He left the train car, wrapping the baby in his old jacket. He walked the streets, holding her tightly, as if her life depended on it.

And it did. He reached an old pharmacy. The windows were shattered, but people still lingered inside.

An elderly woman, Margaret Johnson, sometimes gave Ethan bread. She saw him with the baby and gasped. “Where did you find her?” He stayed silent.

He only handed her the baby. The woman took her gently. Held her close.

She checked her forehead. Tears welled in her eyes. “She’s sick. She needs a doctor right away.”

Ethan stood like stone. He was scared.

But he nodded. He knew it was right. Margaret called someone…