But what hurt her, what was truly killing her as she walked toward the bus stop, wasn’t the injustice of the robbery, but the fate of the children. Lucas and Mateo, five-year-old twins who had lost their biological mother and were now at the mercy of a woman who despised them. Valeria had confessed this to her in a venomous whisper before throwing her out: “Tomorrow they’re going to a boarding school in Switzerland. They’re in my way . ”

Clara tried to warn Alejandro, she shouted from the doorway, she pleaded. But he slammed the solid oak door in her face. The clang of the lock was the final sound of her doom. Now, alone on the street, Clara wondered how she would survive without the smiles of those children, without their goodnight hugs. She was about to turn the corner, about to disappear forever from their lives, when a sound shattered the stillness of the residential neighborhood. It wasn’t a bird, nor a car. It was the crash of breaking glass and a bloodcurdling scream, a child’s voice filled with panic and desperate love that stopped her in her tracks.

—Mama Clara! —The scream wasn’t a sound, it was an explosion.

Clara froze. The air caught in her throat. She knew those voices better than her own breath. They were the voices that woke her every morning asking for chocolate milk, the voices that whispered “I’m scared” when there was a storm. Instinct was stronger than the dismissal order. She turned slowly, and what she saw made the world stop.

There came Lucas and Mateo.