No jury is going to convict me

Six months had passed…

Cristiano’s second birthday was in full swing, the place packed. Andy, Max, Han, Lucas, Bella, even Andres and his dad showed up late.

“Thiago,” Amelia said, her voice low, “something’s off with him. He looks pale.”

Thiago scooped the kid up. “Nah, he’s fine, mi amor. Come on, everyone’s outside.”

After the cake photos, the nanny took Cristiano upstairs for his nap.

The adults were chatting, drinks in hand, when the nanny burst in, panic in her voice. “Something’s wrong with Cristiano!”

Thiago bolted upstairs, Amelia hot on his heels. He grabbed the boy, and Sebastien sped them to the hospital.

“Faster!” Thiago barked. Amelia’s face was ghostly as she stared at her son.

“Breathe, Amelia,” Thiago said, just as Sebastian slammed the brakes in front of the hospital.

The medical team whisked Cristiano away. Amelia’s hands trembled, her whole body shaking.

“He’s so tiny, Thiago. I’m terrified.”

“Mi amor, he’s in good hands now,” he said, pacing like a trapped lion.

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