“Dad, stop the car!” he shouted, panic in his voice. “Those kids digging through the trash… they’re just like me.”

The car moved slowly through the city.

No one was talking inside the Mercedes.

Pedro was asleep in the seat.

Luke and Matthew were sitting together, embracing.

They looked at everything with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

The city lights were reflected in her green eyes.

Patricia’s eyes.

Eduardo gripped the steering wheel.

His mind was filled with memories.

The hospital.

The doctors.

The doctor’s cold voice.

—We’re sorry, Mr. Fernández.

—There were complications.

—His wife did not survive.

The pain had been so great that she barely remembered the rest.

—The baby is alive.

—But he was the only one.

The only one.

That phrase had been with him for five years