“My mommy is sick. I’m buying medicine,” she replied.
Then Kelvin’s eyes fell upon the necklace. His breath caught. “Where did you get this?”
“Don’t touch it,” Vera said firmly. “It’s my daddy’s necklace.”
Kelvin’s hands trembled. “Who is your daddy?”
“I don’t know. Mommy gave it to me.”
“And your mother’s name?”
“Isabella.”
Kelvin instructed his driver to purchase the medicine and asked Vera to take him home. Holding her small hand, he followed her down a narrow, unfamiliar street, his mind racing with possibilities.
They reached a modest dwelling. Inside, Isabella lay weak on a mat. She looked up as Kelvin entered. He did not recognize her immediately.
“I saw your daughter crying,” he explained gently.
