PART 1 – “MOM, THE TWINS DIDN’T WAKE UP… AND WE HAVEN’T EAT ANYTHING IN THREE DAYS!” — MY 8-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER CALLED ME FROM A LUXURY APARTMENT IN THESSALONIKI. WHEN THE POLICE DISCOVERED WHERE THEY AND THEIR FATHER WERE, I REALIZED THAT NOTHING WAS A CHANCE…

“Mom… please don’t be angry with me…”

Those were the first words I heard when I picked up the phone that morning.

It was Friday, just after nine.

I was in the kitchen of my small apartment in Kalamaria, getting ready to leave for my shift at the hospital.

“My Helen? What happened, my love?”

A strange breath was heard on the other end of the line.

Then a cry.

“Mom… Nikolas isn’t opening his eyes.”

The cup slipped from my hand.

It broke on the floor.

“What did you say?”

“And little Peter doesn’t cry anymore…”

I felt my blood run cold.

“Eleni, listen to me very carefully. Where is Dad?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“He left a few days ago. He told me he’d be back when he finished his work.”

I held on to the bench.

My ex-husband, Dimitris, had taken our three children for a few days, according to our contact agreement.

Helen was eight years old.

Our twin boys, Nikolas and Petros, are just eighteen months old.

“When did you last eat?”

The little girl fell silent.

“Helen;”

“I don’t remember well… On Tuesday we had spaghetti.”

I felt like I was losing the ground beneath my feet.

“And then?”

“I found some cookies. But I gave them to the babies.”

“What did you eat?”

He didn’t answer.

“My Helen, tell me.”

“A little bread… but it’s over.”

I grabbed my keys.

“Listen to me. I’ll call for help right away. Stay on the phone.”

“Mama;”

“Yes, my love?”

Her voice became so weak, I could barely hear it.

“I think Nikolas is dying…”

My name is Anna Papadopoulou.

I am thirty-five years old and I work as a nurse in an intensive care unit in Thessaloniki.

I have seen people fighting for their lives.

I’ve heard mothers screaming outside operating rooms.

I have held the hands of patients in their most difficult moments.

But nothing had prepared me for that phone call.

Because this time it wasn’t an unknown patient.

They were my children.

Dimitris and I had separated a year ago.

Our marriage had started beautifully.

I met him at a cafe on the beach in Thessaloniki.

He was charming, kind and always knew what to say.

When Eleni was born, she cried with joy.

At least that’s what I thought then.

The problems started later.

When he opened his own company, he started to be absent frequently.

He was returning late.

He hid his cell phone.

He got angry when I asked him where he was.

And when the twins were born, things got worse.

“I can’t live in constant crying and diapers!” he had shouted at me one night.

“They’re your children, Dimitri!”

“I have a life too!”

A few months later we broke up.

It wasn’t easy.

He had money.

I had my salary.

He lived in a luxurious apartment near the center.

I was renting a small house in Kalamaria.

But the children were my whole world.

And I never wanted them to be deprived of their father.

This was the biggest mistake of my life.

Not because I believed that a father should see his children.

But because I ignored the signs that Dimitris had started behaving in a way I didn’t recognize.

That Friday I immediately called 112 and explained what my daughter had told me.

I gave the address.

I called for an ambulance and the police.

Then I got in the car.

My hands were shaking on the steering wheel.

I called Dimitris.

Once.

Five times.

Ten times.

Always the answering machine.

“Hello, I’m Dimitris. I’m on a business trip. Leave a message…”

“Pick it up!” I screamed.

“Pick up the damn phone!”

I called Eleni again.

He answered after several seconds.

“Mama;”

“I’m coming, my love. Help is coming too. Where are you now?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Can you go near the babies?”

“Yes”.

I heard footsteps.

Then her voice.

“Petros is breathing… but very slowly.”

“And Nicholas?”

Silence.

“Helen;”

“I don’t know, Mom.”

I felt my stomach tighten.

“Don’t try to feed them or give them anything to drink if they don’t wake up. Help is coming. Stay with them.”

“Mom, it’s really hot here.”

“Why;”

“Nothing is working.”

“Not even the refrigerator?”

“No”.

“Not even the lights?”

“No”.

“Is there water?”

“Not anymore.”

And then he said something that made me shiver.

“Dad said not to open the door to anyone.”

“What;”

“He said if I open up, people will come and take us away from you.”

I froze.

“Eleni, listen to me. If you hear the police or rescue workers, tell them where you are. They are there to help you.”

“Ok…”

“I love you”.

“Me too, Mom.”

And then the line was cut.

When I arrived at the apartment building, an ambulance had just stopped in front of the entrance.

Two police officers ran towards me.

“Are you the mother?”

“Yes! My kids are in the fourth grade!”

We ran up.

I wasn’t expecting the elevator.

On the fourth floor we found the door locked.

The electronic entry system was not working.

The policemen knocked loudly.

“Police! Is anyone inside?”

No answer.

I put my ear to the door.

And then I heard something.

A weak blow.

“Eleni!” I shouted.

“Mama…”

Her voice came from a long way away.

“I’m here, my love!”

The police called for backup to open the door.

Those minutes seemed like centuries to me.

When the door finally opened, a stifling heat hit us in the face.

The apartment was dark.

The shutters are closed.

The refrigerator is silent.

There were discarded clothes, empty bottles and food packaging on the floor.

And then I saw her.

Helen was standing next to the kitchen counter.

Her hair was messy.

Her lips are chapped.

Her face is pale.

He was holding an empty plastic cup.

“Mom… I tried.”

I ran to her.

“What did you try, my love?”

She started crying.

“To give them milk. But the milk went bad. And then Petros kept crying…”

“Where are the babies?”

He pointed towards the living room.

I will never forget what I saw.

Nikolas and Petros were lying on a blanket next to the children’s park.

Still.

Their skin was warm.

Their lips are dry.

I fell to my knees.

“Nikola! Peter!”

One made a weak movement.

The other person didn’t react to my voice.

The nurse inside me tried to take control.

I quickly checked their breathing.

Rescuers immediately entered the room.

“Two toddlers, serious possible dehydration!” one shouted.

“We need immediate transportation!”

A police officer approached Eleni.

“Come on, little one. We’ll help you.”

She was holding me by my shirt.

“Mom, don’t leave me!”

“I won’t leave you.”

But when the rescuers lifted Nikolas, I felt like I was falling apart.

Why wasn’t he opening his eyes?

In the ambulance, Eleni was holding my hand.

“Mama;”

“Yes;”

“Will they die?”

I looked at her.

I couldn’t make her a promise that no one had the right to make.

“The doctors will do everything they can, my love.”

He bowed his head.

“I tried to take care of them.”

I hugged her.

“I know.”

“I gave them my last cookie.”

My eyes filled with tears.

“I know, my dear.”

“But Nikolas didn’t want to eat it…”

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I cried.

At the hospital’s pediatric emergency room, doctors immediately took the twins in.

I was listening to instructions.

Steps.

Medical terms.

And the sound of doors closing.

I stayed in the hallway holding Helen.

A doctor came to me.

“Are you the mother?”

“Yes”.

“The children are in serious condition. We are doing everything we can to stabilize them.”

“Will they live?”

The doctor looked at me with compassion.

“It’s too early to answer you.”

I felt my legs buckle.

A short while later a police officer appeared.

He was around forty-five.

Andreas Konstantinou was introduced as a police officer.

“Mrs. Papadopoulou, I need to ask you a few questions.”

I told him everything I knew.

For Dimitris.

For the communication agreement.

For the phone call.

For the apartment.

For the children.

The policeman was taking notes.

Then he asked me:

“Did you know that the electricity to the apartment had been cut off?”

I looked at him.

“No”.

“We have information that the outage was not due to a malfunction.”

“What do you mean?”

“It appears that a request had been made to interrupt the supply.”

I remained motionless.

“From whom?”

The policeman did not respond immediately.

“This is what we are investigating.”

Then my cell phone rang.

An unknown message.

I opened it.

It was a notice about the apartment’s power supply, which still showed my old contact number.

“The power outage was completed at the request of the contractor.”

I looked at the date.

Dimitris had requested the break several days ago.

I felt a cold wave run through my body.

“Policeman…”

I showed him the screen.

“This was no accident.”

Konstantinou read the message.

His face became serious.

“We’ll need this item.”

An hour later, the same police officer returned.

But this time he wasn’t alone.

A female police officer was with him.

Konstantinou approached.

“Mrs. Papadopoulou, we have located your ex-husband.”

I got up immediately.

“Where is it?”

“He is not on a business trip.”

“Then where is it?”

The police officer looked at his colleague for a moment.

“In a hotel in the center of Thessaloniki.”

I clenched my hands.

“How many days was he here?”

“Yes”.

“While his children were locked up without food and water?”

He didn’t answer.

Then he said:

“There’s something else.”

My heart started beating fast.

“What;”

“A small camera was found in the apartment facing the entrance.”

I looked at him, stunned.

“Camera;”

“We are investigating whether it was working and who had access.”

I felt goosebumps.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

The policeman took a deep breath.

“We found Dimitris with a woman at the hotel. And what she told us about your children doesn’t agree at all with what we know so far.”

“Which woman?”

Konstantinou looked at me seriously.

“She told us that your ex-husband had presented her with a plan to gain sole custody of the children. And she claims there’s something you need to hear.”

I felt my breath hitch.

“What’s up?”

The policeman replied in a low voice:

“A recording from last night.”

And at that exact moment, behind us, the door to the pediatric unit opened.

A doctor came out in a hurry.

“Nikola’s mother?”

I’m back.

“It’s me!”

His gaze made me freeze.

“You have to come with me. Right away.”

CONTINUED IN PART 2…