A cry interrupted Sierra's reading. She advanced in the hall and stopped in front of the first room with an open door.

"Don't cry," a woman caring for an infant said while she paced around in circles. Suddenly the cries stopped, and the child's eyes locked on Sierra.

Blue eyes, hair as bright as a cornfield, and chubby cheeks, there was no doubt the boy in the beige dungarees and a white shirt was Leone, Cecile's Leone.

Sierra approached, drawn by the's baby eyes, which were the perfect replica of Cecile's.

"You must be Sierra. Are you here to take him?"

"I—I, I heard his cry," Sierra said and pointed behind her.

"He cries a lot, but it's normal. The drastic changes are quite traumatic for a child this age."

Sierra gently touched the boy's cheek, who immediately grabbed her finger.

"He likes you; it's a good sign this boy won't let anyone near him."

Sierra snatched back her finger, but the baby began to outstretch his arms.

"Oh gosh, he must know who you are."

Sierra glared at the social worker, who smiled back, "what does he want?"

"He wants you to carry him. Do you want to take him in your arms?"

Sierra did not have the time to answer as the social worker pushed Leone on her chest, forcing her to cuddle the baby.

It was one of those moments in which Sierra lived like an encounter of the third type. In her arms, it wasn't Leone she was holding but a part of Cecile. The fact was what made tears shed on Leone's head—making the baby look up and sob too.

Abandoned.

Sierra and Leone shared the same predicament. Cecile abandoned them both, leaving sadness and anger behind for them to tackle. Sierra gave Leone back to the social worker, who was bewildered by her reaction.

Crazy reflections raced through Sierra's head; she could not become a mother. Not with her mortgage, the loan she took for her car, and Vincent. Yes, she was not alone; Sierra doubted the man would be keen on dating a mother?

How would the boy fit in with her lifestyle?

Sierra did not have the complete picture, but she knew there would be sacrifices.

Sierra went back to the room, where Cecile's mother cried scandal, "this boy is our grandson. No law should allow such a thing. This woman isn't even Cecile's kin, there are no blood ties, and she does not have the money to raise him."

"Eh, this woman is here, now," Sierra said as she took a seat.

"Miss Lennox, thank you for joining us again. We were going through the terms of the custody."

"Terms?"

"Yes, Miss Gauthier set up the following; Mr. Leone P. Gauthier has an account with the 100 000euros which his mother directly inherited from her grandmother. No transaction can be processed from that account until his eighteenth birthday. Also, miss Gauthier invested in two start-ups in Sweden, and the Tywin Investment group directly handles those assets. Knowing raising a child, you have access to those assets in case of an emergency concerning Leone's health and the expenses you judge necessary. So as far as the money goes, you are covered.

The attorney's reassuring words did not sway Sierra, who pondered on another question.

"Is it me, or is something weird about this situation?" Leone's grandmother interjected.

Cecile's father, who was silent since the announcement, suddenly resumed his functions, "yes, I agree with you. This situation is absurd. She can not raise our grandson."

"Please, can someone tell me how Cecile died? I mean, you told me she died from an overdose," Sierra said, eyes locked on Mrs. Gauthier before shifting her gaze to the attorney, "but this financial setup does not seem like something a crack head would do. When was all this written up?"

"Six months ago, "Mr. Wagner answered.

"Six months ago, isn't that when Leone was born? Why would Cecile prepare all this at her child's birth?"

"Well," Mr. Wagner leaned forward and linked his hands in front of him," Miss Gauthier was diagnosed with breast cancer when she found out she was pregnant."

"What?"

"She chose to keep the baby, and thus she gave up on the treatment. It was a complicated pregnancy, and her addiction made things even worse, but she stopped knowing her consumption could cause Leone severe brain damage. Once Leone was born, it was too late."

Sierra slapped the tears away from her face, "did anyone else know?"

"No."

"So you are telling me my best friend suffered during all this time and died alone? While we all believed she was merrily globe-trotting."

Sierra could not breathe. The feeling of betrayal grasped her heart. How could she do this to Cecile?

She sat idly waiting for Cecile to call or write, never did she search to know how Cecile was. Sierra foolishly thought her friend was having fun at Punta Cana when she was fighting to live.

"She didn't die from an overdose then?"

"It's a little more complicated. From the coroner's report, it was an overdose of methadone. We imagine she was in great pain, and she probably wanted to numb it by taking a dose."

"Oh my God," gasped her mother, who finally understood the whole picture.

Sierra's thoughts bolted in all the cavities of her mind, only coming to a halt to let her say, "what happens if I don't accept?"

"Leone will be placed in social care."

Leone's grandmother jolted out of her chair, outraged, "that's absurd; who has ever heard of child placement when the child has a direct family?"

"It happens, Mrs. Gauthier, and in this case, where the mother explicitly refuses, we examine every angle of the case. I am here to make sure my client's requests are respected."

"Come on, Mr. Wagner. I mean she's, she's—," Mrs. Gauthier's finger twirled around in Sierra's face direction, "you know what I mean," she ended.

Sierra's eyes grew big, "what, Mrs. Gauthier, why don't you go to the end of your thought. A black woman can't raise a white kid. Is that what you are insinuating? I'm sorry to say, but my ancestors breastfed most of your ancestors; this wouldn't be the first in history.

"Sierra, you can't do this to us; he is our grandson; he is all we have," Mr. Gauthier said in an understanding and calm voice. Aggressivity was of no use in their situation.

"No, you had your chance. God, in all his grace, gave you a child, and you disowned and abandoned her. Cecile died suffering alone.

An ear-piercing cry broke into the room, stopping the ongoing dispute. For Sierra, the scream was a cue. The woman got up.

"Miss Lennox?"

"I'm done."

"Where are you going, Sierra?" Mrs. Gauthier said. She turned in her chair to follow Sierra's movement.

"Don't you hear? Leone's crying."

Sierra walked to the door, where she found the social worker eavesdropping with Leone in her arms.

"Eh, I wasn't —."

Sierra outstretched her arms, "I'll take him."

The baby jiggled as he tried to leap into Sierra's arms.

Mrs. Gauthier ran to the door where her face twisted as she threw her threat at Sierra, "if you do this, Sierra, I will drop a lawsuit so hard on your face you'll be back wearing hand-me-downs in no time.

Sierra chuckled, "I've already been there. I won't die from that. God bless you, Mrs.Gauthier, for this valuable lesson. Eh, does Leone have any belongings?"

The social worker reached in her pocket and gave Sierra a handkerchief.

"This is my Fendi handkerchief," Sierra said, remembering how she searched high and low for the object she never found.

"It's his favorite he does everything with it."

Cecile prepared everything, Leone knew Sierra's scent, and that's how the baby recognized her.

Sierra hugged the child to her chest, "come on, Leone, let's go home."