“NO ONE LAYS A HAND ON THAT GIRL!”
The cry did not come from the girl.
It came from the man who, until that moment, had remained silent, sitting on the dark leather sofa, the folded newspaper resting on his lap, with such a strange calm that no one had truly noticed him.
The whole room froze.
The receptionist, who a second earlier had pointed toward the door with contempt, swallowed hard when she saw him approach. He no longer looked like just another patient. He no longer looked like some ordinary companion. There was something in the way he walked, in the stiffness of his jaw, in the way his eyes locked onto her, that made even the security guard stop moving.
The girl was still clutching her stomach.
Her face was pale, her lips dry, and her breathing short and shaky. She could barely stay on her feet. Her shoes, too big for her, were soaked. The hem of her dress was stained with dust and mud. But what struck the man most was not her appearance.
It was the way the girl had stopped asking for help.
As if she were already used to being turned away.
“Repeat what you just said to her,” he ordered, in a low, controlled voice, far more terrifying than a shout.
The receptionist blinked.
“Sir, this is none of your business. The child has no record, no identification, she isn’t with a responsible adult, and—”
“I told you to repeat what you said to her.”
The woman felt the air grow heavy.
Some people lowered their gaze. Others pretended to look at their phones. No one wanted to get caught up in that scene, but no one could stop listening.
The girl took a small step back.
A sharp pain shot through her abdomen.
She doubled over and let out a moan so weak it sounded like something breaking inside her. Then the man reacted. He stopped looking at the receptionist and crouched down in front of the little girl.
“Look at me,” he said with unexpected gentleness. “Don’t fall asleep. What’s your name?”
“Sofi…” she whispered, gritting her teeth. “It hurts so much…”
“For how long?”
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“Since last night… but now… now it burns…”
The man watched her for barely a second longer, and his expression changed. There was no longer only indignation on his face. There was alarm.
He stood up immediately.
“Bring a gurney. Now.”
The receptionist regained some of her breath and replied defensively:
“We can’t do that without information, sir. There are protocols. Besides, we don’t even know who she is. She could be a street child, she could—”
The sharp sound of the newspaper slamming onto the counter silenced her.
The man pulled a black card from the inner pocket of his jacket and placed it in front of her with two fingers. The woman looked at it… and the color drained from her face.
Her eyes widened.
Then she looked back at the man.
Then at the card.
And for the first time since it had all begun, she stammered.
“D-director… I didn’t know you were here.”
A murmur spread through the waiting room.
The director.
Not just any doctor. Not a visitor. Not a patient. The owner of Santa Emilia Private Hospital.
The man did not take his eyes off the receptionist.
“That makes it even worse,” he said.
She opened her mouth, but could not defend herself.
Two orderlies appeared with a gurney when they saw the commotion. The director gave them a brusque signal.
“Pediatric emergency. Now.”
When they tried to approach, Sofi recoiled with such intense anguish that she nearly lost her balance.
“No… don’t put me to sleep…” she babbled. “If I fall asleep… he’ll find me…”
The director went still.
The nurse holding the gurney frowned.
“Who will find you, sweetheart?”
The girl looked around with eyes overflowing with fear.
It was not the fear of a sick child.
It was the fear of a hunted child.
Sofi shook her head hard as a tear slid down her dirty cheek.
“I can’t say…” she whispered. “He told me that if I talked… my mom would disappear just like my brother…”
The silence turned brutal.
The director felt a heavy blow strike his chest.
“Where is your mother?” he asked, crouching down again.
The girl’s lips trembled.
“I don’t know…” she barely said. “Since yesterday she hasn’t come back to the bridge… and he said it was my fault…”
The nurse brought a hand to her mouth.
The receptionist no longer looked haughty. She looked petrified.
The director extended his hand toward the girl with infinite caution.
“Sofi, listen to me carefully. No one is going to take you out of here. No one is going to touch you. But I need to help you.”
The girl tried to answer.
She could not.
Her body suddenly shuddered.
Her fingers released the edge of her dress.
Her hand went straight to the right side of her abdomen.
And then she screamed.
It was not crying.
It was not a complaint.
It was a sharp, heart-rending scream that made everyone in the room jump to their feet.
The little girl fell to her knees.
And just as the director lunged to catch her, the guard at the entrance turned toward the main door, his face drained of color.
Because a tall man, wearing a dark cap and a gray hoodie, had just entered the hospital… staring directly at the girl.
Who was that man?
What had really happened to Sofi’s mother?
Why did the girl believe they had found her right there inside the hospital?
What happened next…?