An elderly nun, Sister Madalena, greeted them, leaning on her walking stick. When Arthur showed her the portrait, she pressed a hand to her chest.
Arthur’s heart pounded.
He asked for old records. Dates. Names.
There, in faded ink, was the entry: a boy brought in on the very same day the authorities had ended the search for his missing brother.
“He arrived with a woman who said she was a social worker,” Sister Madalena explained gently. “She had documents saying both parents were gone. We did not question it then. Things were… complicated in those years.”
It all fit too well. A child taken, a new name, a false story.
Then Sister Madalena disappeared into a back room and returned holding a small, carefully folded paper.
“Before he ran away,” she said quietly, “he left this on my desk.”
Arthur opened it with numb fingers.
