My husband’s five-year-old daughter had barely eaten since moving in with us. “I’m sorry, Mom… I’m not hungry,” she would repeat to me night after night.

There was something in his tone that didn’t convince me, a mixture of weariness and avoidance. But I didn’t press the issue; I thought maybe she needed to adjust.

A week later, Javier had to travel to Madrid for work for three days. That first night alone, while I was cleaning the kitchen, I heard soft footsteps behind me. It was Lucía, her pajamas wrinkled and with a serious expression I’d never seen on her little face.

“Can’t you sleep, sweetheart?” I asked, crouching down.

She shook her head, clutching her stuffed animal to her chest. Her lips were trembling.

“Mom… I need to tell you something.”

Those words chilled me to the bone. I picked her up and we sat down on the sofa. She looked around, as if making sure no one else was there, and then whispered something that took my breath away.

Such a short, fragile, devastating sentence… I immediately stood up, trembling, and went straight to the phone.

“This can’t wait,” I thought as I dialed.

When the police answered, my voice barely came out.

“I’m… I’m a little girl’s stepmother. And my stepdaughter just told me something very serious.”

The officer asked me to explain, but I could barely speak. Lucía was still by my side, holding me tightly.

Then the girl, with barely a whisper, repeated what she had just confessed.

And upon hearing it, the officer said something that made my heart leap.

“Ma’am… stay in a safe place. We’ve already dispatched a patrol car.”

The patrol car arrived in less than ten minutes. Ten minutes that felt like an eternity. During that time, I didn’t let go of Lucía for a second. I wrapped her in a blanket and we sat on the sofa, the warm light of the living room contrasting sharply with the feeling that the world had just crumbled beneath our feet.

The police entered quietly, without any sudden movements, as if they already knew that any abrupt noise could shatter what little remained of that little girl’s trust. An officer with curly hair knelt beside us.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m Clara. Can I sit with you?” she asked in a voice so gentle that even I felt a small sense of relief.

Lucía nodded slightly.

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