The fluorescent lights of the hospital hallways made the girl's pale skin look even more fragile. Her small frame seemed swallowed by the oversized gown the nurses had dressed her in, and she sat huddled on the examination bed, her legs pulled to her chest. Sarah remained seated beside her, gently rubbing the girl's back in slow, soothing circles.

The doctors had already begun their evaluations, carefully cataloging the malnutrition, bruises, and scars that painted a grim picture of her life. Each discovery seemed to add another layer of weight to Sarah's shoulders.

The girl's gaze darted nervously around the room, lingering on every nurse and doctor that entered. Sarah noticed her flinch every time someone came too close or moved too quickly.

"Hey, sweetheart," Sarah murmured, crouching to meet the girl's eye level. "They're just checking to make sure you're okay. No one's going to hurt you."

The girl didn't reply, but her wide eyes stayed locked on Sarah, as if trying to draw some reassurance from her presence.

Dr. Patel, a middle-aged woman with a kind face, stepped into the room holding a clipboard. She nodded at Sarah before glancing at the girl. "We've done the preliminary tests. She's severely underweight and dehydrated, and there are signs of long-term malnutrition," she said softly. "Her body's been through a lot, and she'll need careful monitoring to regain her strength."

Sarah nodded grimly. "What about the injuries?"

Dr. Patel's expression turned somber. "Some of the bruises are recent, but others are older—fading yellow and green. She also has several poorly healed fractures, including ribs and fingers, that likely went untreated."

Sarah felt her stomach twist. "No child should have to go through this," she muttered.

Dr. Patel sighed. "We're running a full set of labs, and we'll need to keep her here for a while to stabilize her. She also needs psychological support—there are clear signs of trauma."

Sarah looked back at the girl, who was sitting quietly, her gaze fixed on the floor. Her small hands trembled slightly, and Sarah's heart ached to see how scared she looked.

Dr. Patel hesitated, then added, "We also took a DNA sample as part of her intake process. If there's any family out there, it might help us place her."

The hours dragged by as Sarah stayed by the girl's side. Nurses brought in trays of food, but the girl barely touched them. She nibbled cautiously at a corner of bread, but every bite seemed forced, as though she expected punishment for eating.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to eat it all," Sarah said gently, sitting beside her. "Just whatever you're comfortable with."

The girl glanced at her, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, then lowered her head. She set the bread down carefully, her hands trembling.

"I...I'm not supposed to eat without permission," she whispered, the first words she'd spoken since arriving at the hospital. Her voice was so soft Sarah almost missed it.

Sarah's heart broke a little more. She leaned closer, keeping her movements slow and non-threatening. "You don't need anyone's permission anymore, sweetheart. You can eat whenever you're hungry. I promise no one will get upset with you."

The girl looked up, her brows knitting together in confusion, but she didn't reach for the food again. Sarah didn't push, knowing it would take time for her to unlearn the fear etched so deeply into her little body.

The DNA results came back late that night. Sarah was seated in the staff lounge, a cup of lukewarm coffee in her hands, when Dr. Patel approached with a file in her hands.

"We found a match," Dr. Patel said quietly, sitting down across from Sarah.

Sarah blinked. "A match? You mean she has family?"

Dr. Patel nodded, her expression a mix of relief and sadness. "She has four older brothers. Their names are Luca, Matteo, Nico, and Raffaele Costello. They're originally from Italy but currently live in New York. According to the records, their parents died in an accident years ago. The brothers have been listed as her only living relatives."

Sarah felt a surge of hope. "Have you contacted them?"

"We reached out," Dr. Patel confirmed. "I spoke to the eldest brother, Luca. He was...well, you could tell he was in shock. But he wants her back, and he didn't hesitate to say so. He's already making arrangements to come here."

Sarah exhaled, relief washing over her. The girl would finally have a family—a real family—who wanted her. But she also felt a pang of worry. Would these brothers understand what she'd been through? Would they be patient and gentle enough to help her heal?

"What should I tell her?" Sarah asked, glancing toward the girl's room.

Dr. Patel hesitated. "Maybe wait until Luca gets here. This kind of news might overwhelm her, and it's better if her brothers can explain it themselves."

Sarah nodded. "That makes sense. Thank you, Doctor."

Meanwhile, in a sleek office in New York, Luca Costello leaned against his desk, his knuckles white as he gripped his phone. Matteo stood beside him, his face pale, while Nico and Raffaele hovered nearby.

"I can't believe it," Luca said, his voice tight with emotion. "After all these years, we finally know where she is."

"She's alive," Matteo murmured, his tone both awed and broken. "But they said she's...hurt. Luca, how bad is it?"

Luca closed his eyes, the doctor's words echoing in his mind. Malnutrition, injuries, untreated fractures... He couldn't bring himself to repeat it.

"It's bad," he admitted finally, his voice cracking. "But she's alive, and that's what matters. We'll bring her home, and we'll take care of her. No matter what it takes."

Raffaele, the youngest of the brothers, spoke up. "When are we leaving? I can book the jet right now."

"As soon as possible," Luca said firmly. "I'm not wasting another second."

Matteo placed a hand on Luca's shoulder. "She's going to need us—all of us. We have to be patient. Gentle. She's been through hell, Luca."

Luca nodded, his jaw tightening with determination. "I know. And we'll make sure she never has to go through it again."

Back at the hospital, the girl lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room was quiet, except for the steady hum of the machines monitoring her vitals.

She didn't know what was happening—why the nurses and doctors kept whispering around her, why Sarah looked at her with that soft, sad smile. She only knew that something was changing.

For the first time in years, she felt a flicker of hope.

But hope was dangerous.

She pulled the thin blanket tighter around herself and closed her eyes, trying to prepare for whatever came next.