But he knew what it meant when a mother had exhausted every option and finally admitted she was frightened.
He wasn’t going to ignore her.
Chapter Two: The Woman Behind the Message
Clara lived on the fourth floor of an aging apartment building in Upper Manhattan.
The elevator had been broken for nearly three weeks. The hallway smelled of damp plaster, old cooking oil, and the cold air that slipped through poorly sealed windows.
Inside apartment 4B, Clara sat on the edge of her sofa with Lily against her chest.
The little girl had finally stopped crying, but her occasional whimpers were almost worse. Clara knew her daughter was hungry. She had tried rocking her, singing to her, and walking slowly around the apartment.
Nothing had worked for long.
Clara’s own stomach was empty.
She had eaten half a piece of toast that morning and saved the remaining food for Lily. Her last can of formula had run out earlier that afternoon, and the money in her bank account was insufficient even for a small purchase.
