The official report said seven children ran away.
That part was true.
There were no suits.
No secret databases.
No hidden classifications.
Saint Alder's was not a research facility.
It was something far more common.
It was underfunded, understaffed, and mismanaged — with leadership that skimmed money meant for children and enforced control through fear.
Valencia had discovered the financial irregularities by accident.
The accounting software was poorly secured. Wanda noticed first.
"Why are supply invoices three times higher than actual deliveries?" Wanda asked one night.
Valencia cross-checked local vendor pricing.
The numbers didn't match.
They weren't being monitored.
They were being exploited.
Saint Alder's wasn't tracking geniuses.
It was padding budgets.
And cutting corners.
When Valencia found out, something changed in her.
Not anger.
Decision.
"We don't wait to age out," she said.
So, they planned.
For two years.
Mapped night rotations.
Noted which staff drank.
Noted which locks stuck.
Noted which windows didn't latch properly.
The night they left, it wasn't cinematic.
It was desperate.
Wanda looped hallway cameras.
Jonathan tripped the electrical panel.
Troy staged a loud argument between older boys to draw supervision.
Tiffany opened the maintenance gate.
Quinton guided Valencia through one of her fog cycles, steady and patient.
There were no men watching from SUVs.
No photos taken.
Just a staff member shouting when he realized seven beds were empty.
They ran through fields.
Through gravel roads.
Through cold air that burned their lungs.
No one followed.
Not because they weren't important.
Because the orphanage didn't want the scandal.
By morning, they were gone.
Not hunted.
Just free.