The night was unusually silent in Southbay City. The sky stretched endlessly in deep shades of navy blue, speckled with stars that flickered like distant candles. A faint mist curled above the slow-moving waters of Southbay River, winding its way through the city like an ancient, quiet witness to countless stories. Tonight, it would witness yet another—one that would change the fate of a child forever.
At the far end of the Southbay Orphanage grounds, just a few feet away from the riverbank, a lone woman stood beneath the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp while a car behind is waiting. Her face was shrouded by the hood of her cloak, her body trembling with hesitation. In her arms, wrapped in an old but carefully folded blanket, was a baby.
The infant whimpered softly, his tiny body shifting in her grasp. The sound made her chest tighten almost made her change her mind. This child is worth millions and will save her family from poverty. 
With teary eyed the woman carefully kneeled in the grass and with shaky hands, she  tucked a piece of paper into the blanket beside him. The ink had barely dried. Written in it is the real name of the child Hunter. 
She then put down carefully the child in the grass and said "Forgive me, but I have no choice i need money to live and taking you away from your family will help me earn big."
"Hurry up before someone will see us" a man slightly yelled at the woman. The woman stood and jump into a tinted black car with no registration number then the car drove away from the scene.
Minutes passed. The baby whimpered again, his tiny fists clenching in the cold night air. The river whispered against the banks, a gentle lullaby in the silence.
Not far from the river, within the orphanage walls, Sister Beatrice was making her routine rounds. She was an middle age woman, her slightly graying hair pulled back into a tight bun, her warm eyes carrying the weight of years spent caring for abandoned children.
As she walked along the orphanage perimeter, something made her stop. A sound—soft, barely audible—carried by the night breeze. She frowned, straining her ears.
Then she heard it again. A faint cry.
Her heart clenched. It was the unmistakable sound of a baby.
Quickening her steps, she followed the noise to the riverbank. Her breath hitched when she saw the small bundle lying in the grass. For a moment, fear gripped her. Had someone abandoned a child here? In this cold?
She rushed forward, kneeling beside the baby. With gentle hands, she unwrapped the blanket, revealing a small, delicate face with striking blue eyes that stared up at her. The infant whimpered again, his tiny lips quivering.
"Oh, you poor thing," she murmured, pressing a hand against his forehead. He was slightly cold, but otherwise unharmed. Relief flooded her. Whoever had left him here had at least ensured he was properly wrapped.
Then she noticed the note tucked into the folds of the blanket. With a deep breath, she unfolded the paper and read the words written in hurried strokes.
His name is Hunter. That was written in the notes. 
Sister Beatrice’s heart ached as she looked down at the baby. "Hunter," she whispered, testing the name on her tongue. It was a strong name. A name that carried weight.
She gently cradled him in her arms, pressing his tiny body against her chest for warmth. "You're safe now, little one," she whispered, rising to her feet. "You'll never be alone again."
As she walked back toward the orphanage, she couldn't shake the feeling that this child—this abandoned boy—was destined for something far greater than anyone could imagine.
---
Inside the orphanage, Sister Beatrice carefully placed the baby in a small crib in the nursery. The room was dimly lit, filled with soft breathing from other sleeping infants. She adjusted the blankets around Hunter, watching as his tiny hands reached out unconsciously.
The orphanage was not large, but it was the only one in Southbay City, serving as a haven for abandoned children across South Island. Sister Beatrice had seen many children pass through these halls—some adopted into loving homes, others growing up within these very walls, never knowing the warmth of a family.
She silently prayed that Hunter would find a family.
The next morning, the orphanage caretakers gathered around when they heard about the new arrival. Some cooed at the baby’s beauty, marveling at his striking features.
"He doesn't look like an orphan," one of the younger nuns murmured.
Indeed, Hunter looked different from the other children in the orphanage. His features were refined—almost noble. His blue eyes held an unusual depth, as if carrying an untold story even in his infancy.
"Do you think he's from a wealthy family?" another caretaker wondered.
Sister Beatrice sighed. "We may never know. All we can do is care for him and give him a home."
And so, Hunter grew up within the orphanage walls under the name of Hunter Reeves, a boy marked by mystery. While other children came and went, taken in by adoptive families, Hunter remained.
Years passed, and though he was never adopted, he never complained. He learned to fend for himself, to endure loneliness, and to rely only on his own strength. The caretakers did their best to provide for him, but there was always something missing—something that neither love nor shelter could replace.
And yet, despite his hardships, Hunter never allowed himself to be bitter. He had a dream—one that burned brighter than the struggles of his past.
One day, he would rise above his circumstances. One day, he would prove that an orphan from Southbay could become something more.
What he didn’t know was that his past would one day come knocking. And when it did, the boy who had been left by the river would return to Southbay City—not as an orphan, but as a man ready to reclaim everything he had lost.