Kate opened the door and found five children on her doorstep, shivering in the cold. A note was pinned to the oldest girl's coat. Kate's hands shook as she read it: their parents weren't coming back. She'd spent months navigating Ministry forms and orphanage visits to adopt these exact five children, but they'd arrived before the paperwork cleared. She stepped aside without speaking. The children filed past her into the rainbow-walled entrance hall. Maisie kept her eyes forward. Theo positioned himself near the window. Cass reached for Kate's hand, then pulled back. They knew this house. She'd brought them here twice during the adoption visits, let them explore the five bedrooms she'd prepared on the upper floors, showed them the outdoor courtyard where red lanterns hung above scattered game pieces from their last visit. Kate walked to her desk and pulled out the letter she'd written for the Ministry. The defiant note sat under a stack of unanswered forms. She'd planned to burn it when the approval came through. Now the children stood in her house without permission, without paperwork, without any legal right to be here. She held the letter in both hands. The Ministry could take them away tomorrow. She carried the letter to the fireplace and dropped it in. Flames caught the edges first, then consumed the words she'd written in case they told her no. Pip watched from the doorway, eyes wide. Kate turned to face all five of them. "You're staying," she said. "They can come try to stop me." Maisie tapped her foot once, then set her small bag down on the floor.