The soft jazz and polished silverware of La Belle Vie filled the room as millionaire Margaret Hayes ate alone, glued to her stock updates. Success had made her powerful, but hollow. Then a quiet voice interrupted her. Two boys, dirty and thin, stood at her table asking for her leftovers. Their faces, their freckles, their tired eyes—something in them pierced her. They looked like the twin sons she’d lost fifteen years earlier after her ex-husband vanished with them. When the older boy said his name was Noah, and the younger introduced himself as Eli, her world stopped.
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