A young millionaire finds an unconscious girl clutching twin babies in a snow-covered square.
A wealthy young man rescues an unconscious girl holding twin infants in a winter square. But when she wakes in his mansion, a shocking secret changes everything.
James Whitmore watched the snow fall through the wide windows of his penthouse in Whitmore Tower. The digital clock on his desk read 11:47 PM, but the young millionaire had no intention of going home. At 32, he was used to solitary work nightsa routine that helped him triple the fortune left by his parents in just five years.
His blue eyes reflected the city lights as he rubbed his temples, fighting fatigue. The latest financial report still glowed on his laptop, but the words had begun to blur. He needed fresh air. He grabbed his cashmere coat and headed to the garage, where his Aston Martin waited.
The night was unusually cold, even for December in London. The cars thermometer read -5°C (23°F), and the forecast warned of even lower temperatures by dawn.
James drove aimlessly for a while, soothed by the gentle hum of the engine. His thoughts drifted between numbers, charts, and the loneliness that had settled over him lately. Margaret, his housekeeper of over a decade, kept insisting he needed to “open his heart,” as she put it. But after the disaster of his last relationship with Victoria, a high-society woman who only cared for his fortune, James had sworn off romance for good.
Without realizing it, he found himself near Hyde Park. The place was nearly deserted at this hour, save for a few maintenance workers under the dim glow of streetlamps. The snow fell in thick flakes, creating an almost surreal landscape. “Maybe a walk will help,” he murmured to himself.
As he stepped out of the car, the icy air hit his face like tiny needles. His Italian shoes sank into the soft snow as he walked along the parks paths, leaving footprints that quickly filled in behind him.
The silence was almost absolute, broken only by the occasional crunch of his steps. Then he heard it. At first, he thought it was the windbut there was something else, a faint, nearly imperceptible sound that set his instincts on edge.
Crying.
James stopped, straining to locate the source. It came again, slightly clearer this timefrom the playground. His pulse quickened as he approached cautiously.
The play area was completely blanketed in snow. The swings and slides looked ghostly under the weak lamplight. The crying grew louder. It was coming from behind a snow-laden bush.
James circled the foliageand his heart nearly stopped.
There, half-buried in the snow, lay a little girl. She couldnt have been more than six years old, wearing only a thin coat, utterly inadequate for the weather. But what shocked him most was the sight of two small bundles clutched tightly to her chest.
“Babies,” he gasped, dropping to his knees in the snow.
The girl was unconscious, her lips a terrifying shade of blue. His fingers trembled as he checked her pulse. Weak, but there. The babies began to wail louder as they sensed movement.
Without wasting a second, James shrugged off his coat and wrapped all three children in it. He pulled out his phone, his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped it.
“Dr. Harris, I know it’s late, but it’s an emergency,” he said, his voice tense but controlled. I need you at my house immediately. No, its not for me. Ive found three children in the park. Ones unconscious.
A pause. Yes, right now.
Next, he called Margaret. Even after all these years, he was still amazed by her ability to answer on the first ring, no matter the hour.
“Margaret, I need you to prepare three warm rooms immediately and gather clean clothes. No, not for guests. Im bringing three childrena girl about six and two babies.”
“Yes, you heard right. Ill explain when I get there. And Margaretcall the nurse who treated me when I broke my arm, Mrs. Henderson.”
Gently, James lifted the little group into his arms. The girl was alarmingly light, and the twinsthey had to be twinscouldnt have been more than six months old.
He managed to get them back to the car, grateful hed chosen a model with a spacious backseat. He blasted the heat and drove as fast as the conditions allowed to his mansion on the outskirts of the city.
Every few seconds, he checked the rearview mirror. The babies had quieted slightly, but the girl remained motionless. His mind raced with questions. How had these children ended up there? Where were their parents? Why was a little girl alone with two infants on a night like this? Something was terribly wrong.
Whitmore Manor was an imposing Georgian-style structure, three stories tall and over 19,000 square feet. When James passed through the wrought-iron gates, he saw lights already blazing inside. Margaret waited at the front door, her gray hair pulled back in its usual bun, a robe over her nightgown.
“Good heavens,” she gasped as James carried the children inside. “What happened?”
“I found them in Hyde Park,” he replied quickly. “Are the rooms ready?”
“Yes, I prepared the pink suite and the two adjoining rooms on the second floor. Mrs. Henderson is on her way.”
James carried them up the marble stairs, Margaret close behind.
The pink suite, named for its soft rose and cream décor, was one of the mansions most comfortable rooms. He laid the girl on the four-poster bed while Margaret tended to the twins.
“Ill give these little ones a warm bath,” she said, her years of experience with children evident in her confident movements. “Is the doctor coming soon?”
“He should be”
The doorbell cut him off. “That must be him now.”
Dr. Harris, a man in his sixties, had been the Whitmore family physician since James was a boy. Despite the late hour, he was impeccably dressed in his gray suit. “Where are the patients?” he asked, already opening his bag.
James led him to the pink suite, where the girl still hadnt stirred. The doctor examined her thoroughly, checking her vitals and temperature.
“Mild hypothermia,” he diagnosed. “Shes lucky. A few more hours in that cold…” He didnt finish, but James understood the implication.
Soon after, Mrs. Henderson arriveda stout, middle-aged nurse with a kind smile. Together with Margaret, she tended to the twins, who were in surprisingly better shape than the older girl.
“Its extraordinary,” Dr. Harris remarked after examining them. “Theyre just a bit chilled. The girl must have used her own body to shield them from the cold. Remarkable bravery for someone so young.”
James felt a lump in his throat. What would drive a child to such desperate, heroic measures?
The next few hours passed slowly. Mrs. Henderson stayed with the twins in the adjoining room, where Margaret had improvised two cribs. James refused to leave the girls side, watching her pale face as she slept. There was something about her that awakened protective instincts hed never felt before.
Around 3 AM, she began to stirfirst with small twitches, then fluttering eyelids. Suddenly, her bright green eyes flew open, wide with fear.
She tried to bolt upright, but James gently held her back. “Easy, little one,” he said softly. “Youre safe now.”
“The babies!” she cried in panic. “Where are May and Ben?”
James blinked at the names. “Theyre fine,” he assured her quickly. “Theyre sleeping in the next room. My housekeeper and a nurse are looking after them.”
The girl relaxed slightly but remained wary as she took in the luxurious surroundingsthe pale pink walls, the elegant furniture, the silk curtains.
“Where… where am I?” she whispered.
“Youre in my home,” James replied gently. “My name is James Whitmore. I found you and the babies in the park. Youd passed out in the snow.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Can you tell me your name?”
She hesitated, biting her lower lip. Her gaze darted to the door as if calculating an escape.
“Its all right,” he assured her. “No one here will hurt you. We just want to help.”
“Lucy,” she whispered finally, so softly James barely heard it.
“What a lovely name, Lucy,” he said, forcing a reassuring smile. “How old are you?”
“Six,” she answered hesitantly.
“And the babies?”
“May and Ben.”
“Your siblings?”
Mentioning the babies seemed to reignite her panic. “I need to see them!” she cried, trying to get up again.
“Shh, theyre fine,” James said, gently holding her shoulders. “But you need to tell me what happened, Lucy. Where are your parents?”
The girls face twisted in pure terror, freezing Jamess blood.
“I cant go back,” she gasped, gripping his arm with surprising strength. “Hell hurt them againthat bad father. Please, dont let him take the babies.”
Margaret, who had just entered with a tray of hot chocolate, exchanged a worried glance with James.
“No one will hurt you here
