The girl stepped closer and pointed at the photograph of Lucas.
Then she spoke in a quiet, clear voice.
“Sir… that boy lives in my house.”
Time froze.
Adrian’s heart slammed against his chest.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, not caring about the dust covering his expensive suit.
“What did you say?” he asked, barely breathing. “Look at me carefully. Are you sure?”
The girl nodded calmly.
“He lives with my mom and me,” she said. “He’s very quiet. He likes drawing on old paper… and he cries at night.”
Adrian’s throat tightened.
“Does he call for his dad?”
The girl nodded again.
“Very softly… so no one hears.”
For a moment Adrian felt as if the ground had disappeared beneath him.
Lucas loved drawing.
Lucas had always been sensitive.
His son was alive.
“Where is your house?” Adrian asked urgently. “Is it far?”
She pointed down a narrow street.
“Just around the corner. The house with the blue windows.”
“Please take me there,” he begged.
The girl hesitated.
“My mom says I shouldn’t talk to strangers… especially about the boy.”
“I promise no one will hurt you,” Adrian said. “I only want to see him.”
After a moment, she nodded and began walking.
Adrian followed immediately, leaving his car, his driver, and his old life behind.
They moved through a maze of tight alleys and crooked stairways. With every step, Adrian felt as if he were walking toward a truth that could either save him—or destroy him completely.
Finally the girl stopped.
She pointed to a small, worn house with peeling paint and faded blue window frames.
“This one.”
Adrian’s hands shook as he knocked on the door.
Three sharp knocks echoed through the quiet street.
After several seconds, the door opened slightly.
A tired woman appeared, dark circles beneath her eyes.
The moment she saw Adrian, panic flashed across her face.
“Yes?” she said nervously.
“I’m looking for a boy named Lucas,” Adrian replied.
Her expression froze.
“You’re mistaken,” she said quickly. “No children here. Just my daughter and me.”
She tried to close the door.
Adrian held it gently but firmly.
“Please,” he said. “Your daughter told me there’s a boy here. Just let me see him.”
Sweat formed on the woman’s forehead.
“Leave now or I’ll call the police!”
“Call them,” Adrian replied. “Because I’m not leaving.”
At that moment, a heavy thud echoed from inside the house.
Followed by a faint groan.
“Lucas!” Adrian shouted.
He pushed the door open.
The woman grabbed his sleeve, crying.
“Don’t go inside! They’ll kill us! They forced me!”
But Adrian was already running down the dark hallway.
At the end stood a door locked from the outside.
“Find something to break this!” he shouted.
The girl rushed into the kitchen and returned with a hammer.
Adrian struck the padlock again and again until it snapped open.
He threw the door wide.
Inside, a thin boy sat curled on a worn mattress.
He lifted his head slowly.
His hair was longer and dirtier, his face pale and thinner.
