Just those eyes studying me carefully.
The man behind the wheel looked to be in his mid-thirties. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, white shirt open at the collar, a watch that probably cost more than everything I owned.
But it wasn’t the wealth that struck me.
It was the expression on his face.
Not disgust.
Not impatience.
Concern.
His gaze shifted to Mateo, who whimpered weakly in my arms.
“Your baby… how old is he?” he asked in a calm, deep voice.