Chapter 2
Without another word, Alexander lunged forward and swept Sophia into his arms. The sheer lack of weight to her small body sent a fresh wave of nausea crashing over him. She felt like a bundle of fragile twigs wrapped in cheap, threadbare fabric. Sophia let out a startled gasp but immediately buried her filthy face into the pristine white fabric of his dress shirt, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket with a desperate, terrifying strength. She smelled of sour milk, damp alleys, and profound neglect.
Alexander held her tight against his chest, standing up slowly. His heart hammered a violent rhythm against his ribs. He searched her pale, dirt-streaked face in absolute horror, his thumb gently wiping away a smudge of grease from her cheek. She was shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering against his shoulder. The reality of the situation began to slice through his shock, making way for something entirely different. A dark, suffocating fury began to coil in the pit of his stomach.
"Why look for food in the trash?" Alexander asked, his voice shaking with a potent mixture of heartbreak and a rapidly rising, uncontrollable rage. He stared into her wide, fearful eyes, needing an answer but terrified to hear it.
"Because the kitchen doors were locked," Sophia mumbled into his jacket, her voice muffled and exhausted. "And the nice lady at the bakery down the street yelled at me yesterday. The trash here always has the cakes the fancy people don't finish."
Alexander closed his eyes, a tear escaping and tracking down his own face. The image of his precious daughter, his only child, fighting stray animals for half-eaten cake in an alleyway was a brand pressed directly onto his brain.
"Who locked the doors, Sophia?" Alexander asked, his tone dropping an octave, becoming dangerously quiet. "Who put you in these clothes? Where is Maria? Where is your grandmother?"
Sophia whimpered at the mention of her grandmother, her tiny fingers twisting the expensive silk of his tie. "Maria went away a long time ago," she whispered, her body trembling even harder now. "Grandma said she cost too much money. Grandma said... Grandma said I cost too much money too."
Alexander’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might shatter. Victoria. His mother. The woman who had sworn on his late wife's grave that she would treat Sophia like a princess while he expanded the company in Europe.
"Did she put you out here?" Alexander demanded, his voice tight. "Did your grandmother tell you to leave?"
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"No," Sophia cried softly. "She put me in the dark room. But I found the window unlocked today. I was just going to find a piece of bread and go back before she knew. I'm sorry, Daddy. I'll go back. Please don't let her be mad."
The rage that erupted inside Alexander was no longer a coil; it was a roaring inferno. He didn't speak. He couldn't. He simply tightened his protective grip on his fragile daughter, turned his back on the damp, rotting alleyway, and marched toward the heavy steel doors that led directly into the hotel's service corridors.
