Thomas M. gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, as his Bentley navigated through the heavy traffic. The frustration from yet another failed business meeting weighed heavily on him. At 42, he had everything—money, influence, power—but none of it mattered. The one thing he could never have was what he truly longed for: the return of his daughter, Sofia.

The day Sofia disappeared five years ago had shattered his life. A simple walk in the park, and she was gone. No trace. No clues. Just an empty playground swing swaying in the wind. The police investigation had turned up nothing, and despite all his wealth and resources, Thomas couldn’t move forward. Sofia’s absence haunted him every single day.

As he drove aimlessly through downtown Chicago, he took a detour down a street he rarely visited. He needed a change, a different path, maybe something that would distract him from the endless loop of failure he found himself trapped in. But what he saw next froze him in his tracks.

A boy. No older than ten, sitting on the sidewalk. His clothes were torn, his bare feet bruised and dirty. His thin face looked as if it hadn’t seen a proper meal in days. But it wasn’t the boy’s condition that stopped Thomas dead in his tracks. It was the necklace around the boy’s neck. A star-shaped pendant with a small emerald in the center.

Thomas’s heart stopped. His breath hitched in his throat.

The necklace.

It was impossible. It couldn’t be.

It was the same necklace he had given Sofia on her fifth birthday. The same one, custom-made by an exclusive jeweler in New York, with only three identical pieces in existence—one for Sofia, one for him, and the third… lost.

His hands trembled, and he almost dropped his phone as he fumbled to park the Bentley. Ignoring the honking of frustrated drivers behind him, Thomas stepped out and approached the boy, his pulse hammering in his ears. His steps were unsteady, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

The boy looked up, his wide blue eyes filled with suspicion, fear, and something else—something Thomas couldn’t quite place. The boy’s gaze quickly darted to the pendant, then back to Thomas, as if calculating his next move.

“Hi,” Thomas said, his voice shaking despite his attempt to sound calm. “That necklace… Where did you get it?”

The boy’s posture stiffened. He clutched a grimy plastic bag to his chest like it was his only possession, his lips parted as if to say something, but the words never came.

“I didn’t steal it,” the boy said, his voice a rough whisper. “It’s mine.”

Thomas knelt down slowly, trying to avoid intimidating the boy. He could barely keep his voice steady. “I’m not accusing you of stealing it. I just want to know where you got it. It’s very similar to one I knew.”

The boy’s eyes flickered for a moment. A brief, flickering recognition passed over them. Then, almost instinctively, his fingers brushed against the pendant, like a talisman for protection.

“I’ve always had it,” the boy said softly. “For as long as I can remember.”

The words hit Thomas like a freight train. His mind raced, churning through the impossible possibilities. His chest tightened as he struggled to comprehend what he was hearing. The boy was around the right age. The eyes—Thomas’s own blue eyes. And the necklace.

No. It can’t be.

Thomas took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His throat felt tight. “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly.

The boy hesitated before responding, almost as if the name felt foreign to him. “Alex,” he said finally. “Alex Thompson.”

The name wasn’t what Thomas expected to hear. But the way Alex said it—there was something rehearsed in his tone, something that made Thomas wonder if the name had been given to him, not born from his true identity.

“Alex Thompson,” Thomas repeated slowly. His mind whirled with questions. “How long have you been living on the streets, Alex?”

“A few years,” came the vague reply, his eyes narrowing, perhaps suspicious of why Thomas was asking. “Why are you asking so many questions? Are you a cop?”

“No,” Thomas said, shaking his head quickly, desperate to get to the truth. His voice cracked slightly, betraying the turmoil inside him. “I’m not a cop. I just… need to know where you got that necklace.”

Alex shrank back against the wall, clutching his bag tighter. Thomas’s gaze never left the boy’s neck, where the necklace hung so innocently. There was no mistaking it. He had to know.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Thomas said, trying to keep his voice steady, though his heart pounded in his chest. “How long have you had it?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Thomas’s gaze. “I’ve told you, I’ve had it forever.”

It was then that Thomas noticed the way Alex’s hands trembled, not from cold, but from fear. Something wasn’t right.

“Listen,” Thomas said, keeping his voice calm but firm, “I’m trying to help you. You don’t have to be afraid. Just tell me where you got it.”

The boy’s lips trembled as he glanced around, like he was looking for an escape. “I don’t know what you want from me,” Alex said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t ask for this. It’s mine. Just leave me alone.”

But Thomas wasn’t about to back down. He had to know the truth. “Alex, please, just—just tell me. Did you—did you know a woman named Sofia? Sofia M?”

At the mention of the name, Alex’s eyes widened, and his hands froze on the bag. For a brief moment, Thomas saw the flicker of recognition—the same look a person gets when they’ve seen something or someone they thought they’d forgotten.

“Sofia…” Alex whispered, his voice trembling.

Thomas’s heart skipped a beat. “Where did you hear that name?” he demanded, his voice rising.

Alex pressed his lips together, his hands shaking uncontrollably now. He was scared—terrified. But there was something more in his eyes, something that Thomas couldn’t quite place. He stepped closer, careful not to startle the boy.

“I… I don’t know,” Alex muttered, his voice barely audible. “I was just told to say it. To remember it.”

Thomas froze, his thoughts racing. The boy had been told to remember the name? Who had told him? And why?

Before he could ask another question, Alex bolted, disappearing into the alley with a speed Thomas couldn’t match. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared after the boy, his mind reeling.

The necklace. The boy’s eyes. The name Sofia.

Everything was connected, but how?

Thomas had a choice. He could let this go, walk away, and pretend he hadn’t seen anything. Or he could follow the thread that was unraveling before him, no matter how terrifying it might be.

Without thinking, Thomas ran after the boy, determined to uncover the truth, no matter where it led.