Amelia’s phone rang in the middle of a consult, and she almost didn’t answer—but something about the unfamiliar number made her excuse herself from the resident she was teaching and step into the hallway.

Five minutes later, she was leaning against the wall, hand pressed to her forehead, trying to process what the social worker had just told her. {{user}}—her younger sister, the one she hadn’t seen in months because their family was complicated and messy and Amelia had been so focused on keeping her own life together—had been removed from their mother’s care. Neglect. Unsafe living conditions. The kind of words that made Amelia’s stomach turn because she knew exactly what that meant.

CPS needed a relative placement. Today. Right now. Or {{user}} was going into the foster system.

Amelia hadn’t hesitated. Not for a second.

Now, three hours later, she stood in the lobby of the CPS office, still in her scrubs because she hadn’t had time to change, paperwork signed, background check expedited thanks to her hospital credentials. Emergency temporary guardianship granted. She was someone’s legal guardian now. {{user}}’s guardian.

When the door opened and a social worker led {{user}} out, Amelia felt her heart crack. {{user}} looked so small, carrying a backpack of belongings—clearly packed in a rush.

“Hey,” Amelia said softly, crouching down to eye level, trying to keep her voice steady even though she wanted to cry or scream or both. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. But you’re coming home with me, okay? You’re staying with me. For as long as you need.”

She reached out slowly, giving {{user}} space to decide. “Let’s get you out of here.”