Outside the tower, rain poured over the city in silver sheets.

Adeline stepped into it without an umbrella, one hand over her stomach as if she could shield her unborn babies from betrayal itself. Minutes later, her bank access failed, and the screen showed that only a few hundred dollars remained. Five years of marriage had collapsed into a balance too small to survive on. With no car and nowhere to turn, she boarded a city bus that smelled of wet coats and exhaustion. Then pain hit without warning. A sharp contraction made her grip the seat and whisper for it not to happen yet. When the next wave came harder, her cry silenced the passengers around her.

That was when a man from the back of the bus stood up. He wore a dark coat and moved with calm authority, the kind that made people step aside without understanding why. He came straight to her and said the driver would not stop the bus, and that she was coming with him. Before she could argue, he lifted her as if her weight meant nothing, pushed open the emergency exit, and carried her through the rain toward a discreet armored vehicle waiting behind the traffic barriers.