Rain poured hard as Janet watched the city blur through her car window. Then she saw her—a little girl, drenched and trembling, clutching two crying infants. Their eyes met, pleading. The light turned green, and the driver moved on, but the image seared itself into Janet’s mind.
That night, guilt kept her awake. Twelve years ago, she’d cast out her pregnant daughter, Isabelle, in anger. Isabelle had vanished. Janet had searched, failed, and convinced herself her daughter was fine. But the hollow eyes of that girl reopened every wound.
By dawn, Janet drove back to find her. The street was empty—until she heard a faint baby’s cry. In an alley sat the girl, soaked and shaking, trying to warm the infants. Janet took them to a diner, fed them, and learned her name: Roselene.
When she brought them home, a silver bracelet on Roselene’s wrist made Janet freeze. It was Isabelle’s—engraved For my sweet angel. Love, Mom. Roselene whispered, “It was my mother’s. Her name was Isabelle.” Janet broke down. The girl was her granddaughter.
Roselene told her everything: Isabelle had fled an abusive man, given birth to twins, and died of illness three months ago. Janet wept. “Where was I?” she whispered.
She vowed to protect them. The children thrived; laughter returned to the mansion. Janet built the Isabelle Bennett Foundation to help homeless mothers—her penance and her purpose.
Then came the threat: the twins’ father, Joshua Savage, was searching. One day, he found them. Gunfire shattered the garden. Janet threw herself between him and the children. He attacked—but the guard struck him down. Joshua was arrested and sentenced to thirty years.
Months later, peace bloomed again. At Isabelle’s grave, Roselene whispered, “We’re okay now, Mom.” Janet smiled through tears. “She’s proud of you.”
On the twins’ second birthday, as laughter filled the house, Janet looked to the sky and whispered, “Thank you, Isabelle. I kept my promise.”
The End