“Move. You’re blocking the store.” The woman didn’t even stop after her heel kicked the boy’s paper cup.

Three days later, Leo was discharged into the care of the Sterlings. They took him to their sprawling estate in the hills outside the city—a mansion of glass, white stone, and manicured gardens that looked like something out of a fairy tale to a boy who had scavenged food out of dumpsters.

He was given a massive bedroom on the second floor, complete with a soft bed, private bathroom, and closet filled with warm clothes. But old habits died hard. On his first night, the maid found Leo sleeping on the floor in the corner of the room, wrapped in a single blanket, his boots still laced up tight.

"He doesn't trust the bed," Eleanor whispered to Richard as they watched him through the cracked door. "He thinks someone is going to take it away from him."

"It takes time to unlearn survival," Richard said grimly.

However, not everyone in the Sterling sphere welcomed the boy's arrival with open arms.

The following afternoon, Eleanor’s brother, Victor Vance, arrived at the estate. Victor was the chief financial officer of the Sterling umbrella, a sleek, arrogant man who saw the world purely through balance sheets and social status.

Victor walked into the living room, taking a sip of scotch as he watched Leo sitting quietly on a sofa, awkwardly holding a glass of juice while Lily giggled, reaching for his fingers from her playpen.

"Are you serious about this, Eleanor?" Victor asked, his voice dripping with condescension as soon as Richard stepped out to take a call. "You brought a street stray into your home? A child with no lineage, no background, probably a thief?"

"Watch your tongue, Victor," Eleanor warned, her eyes flashing. "That boy saved your niece's life."

"He got lucky," Victor sneered, leaning against the marble fireplace. "Or worse, he staged it. How do we know he didn't bump the stroller himself just to play the hero and score a payday from a rich family? Street kids know all the tricks."

Leo’s hand tightened around his glass. He didn't say a word, but his shoulders slouched, the tiny bit of warmth he had started to feel evaporating instantly.

"Get out," Eleanor said, her voice dangerously quiet.

"Eleanor, be practical," Victor pushed, stepping closer. "The press is already asking questions about why the Sterling family is harboring a homeless boy. Our investors are nervous. If there’s a scandal— background issues, deadbeat relatives looking for a handout—it will tank the stock before the winter merger!"

"I said get out of my house!" Eleanor slammed her hand on the coffee table.

Victor glared at her, then turned his cold gaze onto Leo. "Enjoy the luxury while it lasts, kid. Rats always end up back in the gutter."

As Victor stormed out, Leo pulled his hands back, looking down at his worn knuckles. He stood up slowly.