An anxious expression finally appeared on Isabella Foster's typically calm and serene face as she took the child from his mother's arms, gently patting his back.
"Don't cry, Alexander, mommy is here," she murmured.
Perhaps sensing the familiar scent, the child's sobbing subsided somewhat, though he hadn't ceased crying entirely.
Isabella was desperately worried, her eyes brimming with tears of concern and love.
Kelly Martinez clenched her fist, her gaze unwaveringly trained on the distorted face of the child, not wanting to miss a single second of his struggle.
Aubree Groove gently patted Kelly's shoulder, then took a step forward.
"Let me examine him," she said.
The mother jumped forward, blocking Isabella's way and looking suspiciously at Aubree. "You're no doctor. What can you do? Are you a child trafficker?"
