Her words struck him like physical blows. He had built his entire life on the principle that emotion was a weakness, that family ties only brought complications. But looking at Maria, seeing the way she shielded those children like a lioness, something deep inside him began to crack.

“This cannot continue,” he said, his voice losing some of its force.

“I know,” Maria replied, her own voice finally breaking. “I know I can’t keep bringing them here. I just… I need a little more time. To figure something else out.”

Richard watched her. She hadn’t lied or tried to manipulate him. She had simply laid the facts bare, ready to accept the consequences while standing firm in her conviction.

“How long have they been here?” he asked, his tone softening almost imperceptibly.

“This is the first time,” she admitted. “My mother had another episode this morning. The doctors insisted on absolute rest. I had no one else, and I couldn’t miss work. You were depending on the house being perfect for your return.”

The irony was not lost on him. Maria had risked her job to fulfill her responsibilities—both to him and to her family.

The twins had quieted again. Lily had closed her eyes, but Leo remained awake, his dark, bright eyes curiously scanning the room. For a moment, Richard found himself mesmerized by the absolute innocence in their tiny faces.

“I can’t allow this to happen again,” he said finally.

Maria nodded, tears now threatening to spill. “I understand completely, Mr. Sterling. I’ll find another solution. I’ll pack my things.”

Richard turned away, unable to look at the scene any longer. His rational mind screamed at him to fire her on the spot, to maintain the boundaries he had so carefully constructed. But another part of him, a part buried for decades, whispered something else entirely.

Night fell like a heavy shroud over the mansion, but Richard found no peace. The image of Maria with the twins was seared into his mind. He’d told her coldly to collect her belongings and be gone by morning. But as the words left his mouth, something inside him had rebelled. Her dignified acceptance, the way she simply held the babies closer, had unsettled him to his core.

At 3 a.m., he surrendered to the insomnia. Barefoot, he walked to the window of his master suite overlooking the manicured gardens. The full moon illuminated the perfect lawns and ornate fountains. Everything was perfect, orderly, and lifeless.

His thoughts drifted to memories he’d kept locked away. His own childhood at the “New Hope” orphanage had been a succession of gray days and lonely nights. He vividly remembered arriving there at five years old, after a car crash had stolen his parents. The tragic irony was not lost on him.

As dawn broke, Richard made a decision that astonished even himself. He dressed quickly and left the mansion before Maria was due to arrive. He had a mission—to return to the place where it had all begun.

The New Hope Orphanage stood in the same rundown neighborhood. The facade needed paint, but the structure remained. Parking his Bentley, he felt the years melt away. The director, an older woman named Elena, greeted him with surprise. Few former residents ever returned, much less in cars that cost more than the institution’s annual budget.

“Mr. Sterling,” Elena said, leading him down hallways that smelled exactly as he remembered. “What brings you back?”

“I need to remember some things,” he said, looking at the walls decorated with children’s drawings. “And I want to know how this place is running.”

Over chipped coffee mugs in her cramped office, Elena explained. “It’s not easy. Government funding is down, private donations are scarce. We have a waiting list.”

“A waiting list?” Richard frowned.

“Yes. More children in need than we have space for. Just last month, we had to turn away a young mother with twins. She had no resources, no support. It was heartbreaking.”

Elena’s words landed like stones. He thought of Leo and Lily. He thought of Maria’s desperation.

“What happens to the babies you can’t accept?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Elena sighed. “We try to connect them with other facilities, but most are in the same situation. Some… well, some get lost in the system. They bounce from one temporary home to another, never forming real bonds.”

Richard felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He remembered that feeling—the confusion, the fear, the sense of being utterly alone. He asked for a tour. The dormitories were clean but overcrowded. In the infant area, he stopped short. A dozen cribs were lined up. Caretakers, clearly overwhelmed, moved from one to the next. One baby cried, her arms flailing, seeking comfort that wasn’t coming fast enough.

“What’s her story?” he asked, pointing.

“Teenage mother, disowned by her family. The father vanished. She tried, but she couldn’t do it alone.”

The words resonated deep in his chest. He thought of Maria, fighting desperately to hold her makeshift family together.

“Elena,” he said when they returned to her office. “What would it take to significantly improve the conditions here?”