A young millionaire found an unconscious girl clutching two twin babies in a snowy square. A billionaire rescued an unconscious girl holding twin infants in a winter plaza. But when she woke in his mansion, a shocking secret changed 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 tycoon had no intention of going home. At thirty-two, he was accustomed to solitary nights of worka routine that had helped him triple his parents fortune in just five years.
His blue eyes reflected the city lights as he rubbed his temples, fighting fatigue. The latest financial report remained open on his laptop, but the words blurred before his eyes. He needed fresh air. Grabbing his cashmere coat, he headed to the garage where his Aston Martin waited. The night was exceptionally cold, even for London in December. The cars thermometer read -5°C, and the forecast warned of even lower temperatures by dawn.
James drove aimlessly for a while, soothed by the hum of the engine. His thoughts drifted between spreadsheets, market charts, and the loneliness that had settled over him lately. Mrs. Hughes, his housekeeper of over a decade, often insisted he needed to open himself to love, as she put it. But after the disaster of his last relationship with Victoriaa high-society woman who cared only for his wealthJames had sworn off romance in favor of business.
Without realizing it, he found himself near Hyde Park. The place was deserted at this hour, save for a few maintenance workers laboring under the dim glow of streetlamps. Thick snowflakes continued to fall, creating an almost surreal landscape. “Maybe a walk will help,” he murmured to himself.
Parking the car, the icy air stung his face like tiny needles as he stepped out. His Italian shoes sank into the fresh snow as he walked along the 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 just the windbut there was something else. A faint, nearly imperceptible sound that sharpened his instincts. Crying.
James stopped, trying to pinpoint the source. It came again, clearer this time, from the direction of the playground. His pulse quickened as he approached cautiously. The play area was blanketed in snow, the swings and slides looking like ghostly shapes under the weak lamplight. The crying grew loudercoming from behind a snow-covered bush.
James circled the shrubbery, and his heart nearly stopped.
There, half-buried in snow, lay a little girl. She couldnt have been more than six, wearing only a thin coatcompletely inadequate for the weather. But what shocked him most was the sight of two small bundles clutched tightly against her chest.
“Babies,” he gasped, dropping to his knees. The girl was unconscious, her lips a terrifying shade of blue. With trembling fingers, he checked her pulse. Weak, but there. The infants began to wail louder at the movement. Without wasting another second, James stripped off his coat and wrapped all three children in it.
Fumbling for his phone, he dialed with shaking hands. “Dr. Bennett, I know its late, but its an emergency,” he said, voice tight with control. “I need you at my house immediately. No, not for me. I found three children in the park. Ones unconscious.”
A pause.
“Yes, right now.”
Next, he called Mrs. Hughes. Even after all these years, he marveled at her ability to answer on the first ring, no matter the hour.
“Mrs. Hughes, 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 correctly. Ill explain when I get there. And Mrs. Hughescall the nurse who treated me when I broke my arm. Mrs. Thompson.”
Carefully, he lifted the small group into his arms. The girl was alarmingly light, and the twins couldnt have been more than six months old. He managed to get them into the car, grateful for the spacious back seat. Cranked the heat to maximum and drove as fast as 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. Questions flooded his mind. 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 with over 19,000 square feet of space. When James passed through the wrought-iron gates, he saw lights already blazing inside. Mrs. Hughes waited at the grand entrance, her gray hair pinned in its usual bun, a robe thrown over her nightgown.
“Good heavens,” she exclaimed as James carried the children inside.
“What happened?”
“I found them in Hyde Park,” he said swiftly. “Are the rooms ready?”
“Yes, I prepared the Rose Suite and the two adjoining rooms on the second floor. Mrs. Thompson is on her way.”
James took the marble stairs two at a time, Mrs. Hughes trailing behind. The Rose Suitenamed for its soft pink and cream décorwas one of the mansions most comfortable guest rooms. He laid the girl on the four-poster bed while Mrs. Hughes tended to the infants.
“Ill give these little ones a warm bath,” the housekeeper said. Her decades of experience with children showed in her steady hands. “Is the doctor close?”
“He should be”
The doorbell interrupted him.
“That must be him now.”
Dr. Bennett was a man in his sixties, the Whitmore family physician since James was a boy. Despite the late hour and urgency of the call, he wore his usual impeccable gray suit.
“Where are the patients?” he asked, already opening his medical bag.
James led him to the Rose Suite, where the girl still hadnt stirred. The doctor examined her thoroughly, checking vitals and temperature.
“Mild hypothermia,” he diagnosed. “Shes lucky. A few more hours in that cold…” He didnt finish, but James understood.
Shortly after, Mrs. Thompson arriveda stout, middle-aged nurse with a kind smile. Together with Mrs. Hughes, she tended to the twins, who were in surprisingly better shape than the older girl.
“Remarkable,” Dr. Bennett remarked after examining the babies. “Theyre just a bit chilled. The girl must have used her own body to shield them from the cold. A brave act for someone so young.”
James felt a lump in his throat. What could drive a child to such desperate courage?
The hours passed slowly. Mrs. Thompson stayed with the twins in the adjoining room, where Mrs. Hughes had improvised two cribs. James refused to leave the girls side, watching her pale face as she slept. Something about her stirred protective instincts hed never known he had.
Around 3 AM, she began to stirsmall movements at first, her eyelids fluttering. Then suddenly, her eyes flew openvivid green and wide with fear.
She tried to bolt upright, but James gently restrained her. “Easy, little one,” he said softly. “Youre safe now.”
“The babies!” she shrieked, panic lacing her voice. “Where are Emma and Ethan?”
James blinked at the names. “Theyre fine,” he assured her quickly. “Sleeping in the next room. My housekeeper and a nurse are watching them.”
The girl relaxed slightly but remained wary as she took in the luxurious surroundingsthe pale pink walls, elegant furniture, and silk curtains only seemed to confuse her more.
“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 fainted in the snow.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Can you tell me your name?”
She bit her lower lip, her eyes darting to the door as if assessing an escape route.
“Its all right,” he assured her. “No one will hurt you here. We only want to help.”
“Lily,” she murmured finally, so softly he barely heard it.
“What a lovely name, Lily,” he said, smiling to reassure her. “How old are you?”
“Six,” she answered hesitantly.
“And the babies?”
“Emma and Ethan.”
“Your siblings?”
Mentioning the babies seemed to reignite her panic. “I need to see them!” she cried, trying to rise again.
“Theyre fine,” James said, holding her shoulders gently. “But you must tell me what happened, Lily. 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 the babies againthat bad father. Please dont let him take them!”
Mrs. Hughes, who had just entered with a tray of hot chocolate, exchanged a troubled glance with James.
“No one will hurt you here, Lily,” he promised, taking her trembling hand. “Youre
