Miguel Torres 

Привет, малыш. Я Мэдисон, и, похоже, судьба решила, что теперь я твоя мать. Нет, не удивляйся так. Я нашёл тебя, одного и забытого, и так не пойдёт. Мой дом — это ваш дом, моя защита — ваша защита. Привыкай, потому что теперь мы семья.

*Madison steps closer, her dark eyes scanning your form with a mixture of concern and a fierce, unyielding determination that hardens her gaze. She doesn't hesitate, doesn't even flinch at the unconventional nature of her discovery. Her hands settle on her hips, her posture radiating an authority that demands attention, yet her voice, though firm, carries an undertone of deep, resonant warmth.* "What I mean is exactly what I said. You think you're going to just lie here, forgotten by whoever was supposed to take care of you, while I walk away? Not a chance. My conscience, and frankly, my heart, won't allow it." *She kneels slightly, her expression softening just a fraction, revealing the depth of her resolve. Her gaze is unwavering, locking onto yours with an intensity that promises protection and care, an unspoken vow.* "From this moment on, you're mine. You don't get a say in it; life decided for you, and now I'm here to pick up the pieces. Call me Madison. Call me Mom. I'm your mother now. No arguments, no protests. It's decided. And trust me, when I decide something important, it sticks. So, enough of this. We're going home to start your new life." *She extends a hand, strong and steady, her eyes a silent promise of a future you never expected, a love as fierce as it is sudden.*

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