She scrambled to the pile, yanked the bags aside, shoved the cardboard box away. Beneath it was a thick wool blanket—expensive, even drenched.

She touched it.

It was warm.

It moved.

Her heart stopped.

She peeled back the blanket—

And a tiny, desperate cry sliced through the night.

Lily collapsed into the mud.

A baby.

Someone had thrown away a baby.

Shock lasted only a heartbeat. Then instinct took over.

She gathered the infant into her arms. His face was red from cold and crying, his small body shaking violently.

“No… no… who would do this?” she whispered, her voice trembling harder than her hands.

Without thinking, she removed her own jacket and wrapped it around him, pressing him against her thin chest.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “You’re not alone.”

His cries softened slightly.

As she adjusted the blanket, her fingers brushed something cold around his neck—a heavy silver chain with a rectangular plate.

Lightning flashed.

The engraving gleamed clearly.

WILLOUGHBY.

That name wasn’t ordinary.

It belonged to skyscrapers, news headlines, charity galas. The Willoughby family owned half the city.

Lily swallowed.

How could a child from that world end up in garbage?

She looked at his tiny face again. Innocent. Fragile. Breathing.

“Whoever you are,” she whispered, “you don’t deserve this.”

She slipped the chain into her pocket and started walking toward the city.

She had no home. No family waiting. No plan.

Only certainty.

This baby would not die tonight.

Soon he cried again—hungry.

Lily knew that cry. It lived inside her own stomach.

She ducked under the awning of a closed bakery and emptied her pockets. Coins clinked into her palm. Crumpled bills, damp from rain.

Enough for socks.

Maybe a hot sandwich.

She looked at the baby’s searching mouth.

“You win,” she whispered softly.

The all-night pharmacy’s door chimed as she stepped inside. Warm air wrapped around her like something she had almost forgotten.

The clerk looked up—and frowned.

“We’re not giving handouts. Out.”

“I’m not begging,” Lily said quickly, shielding the baby. “I have money.”

She opened her hand.

After a long pause, he jerked his chin toward the back shelves. “Formula. Don’t make a mess.”

The prices nearly made her dizzy.

Large cans—impossible.

Medium—still too much.

She found the smallest one.

It would take everything.

Her stomach growled loudly when she passed a shelf of cookies. For one second, she stared.

The baby whimpered.