Michael searched for answers but came up with nothing while they shivered in the icy hospital corridor, kept waiting by the Ward family. The wait felt never-ending, like a punishment.
Eventually, Mrs. Jordan was the first to crack. "I'll check on Hannah…" she murmured, and left. Hannah was in another section of the hospital, focused on the maternity ward.
Michael and Mr. Jordan were barely holding it together but felt forced to stay put. They grumbled under their breath, totally clueless that their nightmare was just getting started.
**
Avani's world was a symphony of beeping machines and muffled voices. But one voice cut through, sharp and clear—
[Avani, hey, Avani!]
[Wake up, huh? If you don't, I'll…]
The voice buzzed around her like a swarm of bees, low-key irritating.
Who was that?
Her eyes fluttered open to stark white walls.
A small crowd huddled around her bed; she pressed her lips together, cautiously scanning her surroundings.
Koen Ward reacted first, blurting out with excitement, "Avani, you're awake! I'm your Uncle Koen…"
The Ward family watched her, barely breathing, their eyes glued to her face.
Little Avani's mind felt blank. "Uncle Koen?"
Her delicate face was expressionless, like a fragile porcelain doll. Saying "Uncle Koen" felt more like repeating a word than naming a real person.
Mr. Ward's jaw tightened as he looked at Avani. She looked so tiny in that huge hospital bed, her frail body practically swallowed by it.
The sight hit him right in the chest, almost stealing his breath.
Koen Ward softened his voice, gently touching Avani's head. "Avani, I'm your mom's younger brother, Koen Ward. You called me, remember?"
Avani's lashes fluttered before she hesitated, then answered softly.
Yes, she remembered…
She had tried to call Uncle Koen, but no one had answered.
Did they not want her?
"Are you here to take me home?" Avani asked, her voice barely a whisper.
The men around her bed nodded eagerly. Griffin Ward spoke up, "Avani, I'm your Uncle Griffin. We're here to take you home."
Mr. Ward's voice thickened with emotion. "That's right, we're taking Avani home, where no one will ever hurt you again. Anyone tries, they'll have to answer to me."
Avani glanced around, uncertain.
Home?
Would they toss her aside once they brought her 'home'? Would they hurt her? Let her go hungry?
Her silence made the Ward men uneasy; they were clearly out of their depth with a kid. All eyes turned toward Cristian and Griffin.
Cristian, forty, had two kids of his own. Griffin, thirty-eight, was a father, too.
Cristian hesitated. "What's Avani worried about?"
His icy tone drew irritated glares from his brothers.
Griffin, fumbling for the right words, coughed, then failed completely and ended up pacing in frustration.
Koen sighed, bending closer to Avani, gently stroking her hair. "Avani, tell Uncle Koen your name."
Avani's gaze drifted to the ceiling. After a moment, she spoke. "I don't have a name. I'm just Avani."
Her father had said he'd pick a name after her stepmom gave birth to her brother—leaving her with nothing.
Koen's heart ached for this nameless little girl. What kind of hell had she been through with the Jordans?
Swallowing his rage, he asked softly, "What's on your mind, baby?"
Avani slowly turned her head to look at the man claiming to be her uncle.
That day, her world had been dark and silent—until this man broke through, like a ray of light slicing through the shadows.
Her lips trembled. "Uncle Koen, will there be food at home?"
The question hit everyone like a punch to the gut.
Food at home?
Before anyone could respond, Avani whispered again, "Will I be hit?"
Those two short questions nearly shredded Mr. Ward to pieces.
The child was scared of going hungry, terrified of being hit.
What horrors had she faced with the Jordans?
She hadn't had enough to eat. She'd been cold every winter.
No one comforted her after nightmares. No one cared if she soaked her summer clothes in sweat.
Mr. Ward turned away, lips pressed tight, fighting to hold back tears as his eyes burned red.
The Ward brothers clenched their fists, fury simmering, careful not to scare Avani.
Koen took Avani's tiny hand and pressed it against his cheek, his voice hoarse. "Avani, sweetheart, you'll have all the food you want at home. No one will ever, ever hit you."
"See, this is Uncle Cristian, Uncle Griffin, Uncle Quinn…"
"They're all amazing."
"We'll protect Avani. No one can hurt her ever again."
Avani clutched the blanket, staying silent for a long time.
The Ward family feared she might never speak again, but then suddenly she did. "Uncle Koen, Avani didn't push anyone. Daddy and grandpa want me to confess, but I won't…"
Her stubbornness was plain on her doll-like face, even through the sadness in her eyes.
Avani wondered whether her uncles really cared.
Would they still want her after knowing she wouldn't admit to what she didn't do?
Koen's throat tightened, tears threatening to spill, while Mr. Ward dabbed at his own eyes.
Cristian spoke calmly. "Uncle knows it wasn't you. You're doing the right thing by not confessing."
Koen added, "They're wrong, Avani. Not you. You did good."
At that, Avani's lips wobbled, and tears suddenly poured down her cheeks.
She'd held back for so long. Now the tears spilled out against her will.
Little Avani kept her defiant expression even as she choked out, "But Daddy doesn't believe me."
"Daddy says I killed my brother."
"Grandpa said if I didn't admit it, he'd never let me out."
Finally voicing all her pain, Avani cried, the words tumbling out.
At three and a half, no matter how stubborn a kid is, they still feel hurt.
Koen swallowed his fury, vowing, "He doesn't deserve to be called your father!"
Cristian cut in sharply, "Koen!"
Koen fell silent, though fury and disgust seethed inside him. He imagined going after the Jordan patriarch, fists first.
After talking and crying, Avani quickly fell asleep again.
Outside, Koen asked Cristian, "Are we really letting the Jordans off this easy?"
Was just bankrupting them enough?
Cristian methodically unbuttoned his cuffs, calmly rolling up his sleeves. "Eight against one. Doesn't that sound fair?"
Eight against one.
