I was standing outside the gas station with my paper cup, rattling the change inside as I shuffled in. As I moved toward the aisles, a loud voice caught my attention. An elderly man was struggling to understand the cashier, and a line of frustrated shoppers had formed behind him.

“I’m sorry, young lady, what did you say about the water being funny?” the old man asked, confused.

“Money!” the cashier groaned. “I said you don’t have enough money, sir!”

“Yes, it was a sunny day!” the man replied, frowning.

“You need more cash! For the water!” A young guy behind the man grabbed his shoulder and yelled in his ear, causing him to recoil.

I watched the whole thing unfold. The old man explained he didn’t have enough money and asked if he could get a smaller bottle of water for his pills.

“If you can’t afford to pay, you’ll have to go!” the cashier shouted.

“I can go?” He smiled and turned to leave, but the cashier snatched the water bottle from his hand. “Just get out, old man!” she hissed. “You’re way too much trouble!”

“Yeah, get lost, old fart!” a woman in the queue yelled.

The old man pleaded that he needed the water for his pills, but no one listened. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked up to the counter and offered to pay for the man’s water.

“Have a heart, lady,” I said, pouring my change onto the counter. The cashier counted it, taking my last $2. “That’ll cover it. Now step aside. You’re holding up the line.”

I left my can of beans on the counter and handed the water to the old man.

“Here you go, sir. I got you water,” I said slowly and clearly so he could understand.

He thanked me, and we left the store together. I was heading back to my tent next to the station when the man stopped me.

“Wait!”

I turned around.

“Why did you help me when you obviously needed the money?” he asked, noticing my tent and my daughter helping her siblings wash up in a bucket.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being homeless, sir,” I said, “it’s that the world works when people are kind to each other. Sadly, nobody was going to help you in that store.”

“But what are your kids going to eat? I saw you leave the beans on the counter.”

“We have the last of yesterday’s bread, and there’s a good chance I’ll find some scraps at that fast food joint across the street,” I replied. “We’ll get by.”

The man walked away, frowning. I noticed he got into a gleaming SUV and wondered why he couldn’t afford a bottle of water.

The next day, while I was dividing cold fries among my kids, a silver sedan pulled up near my tent. A man in a fancy suit approached me.

“Morning, sir. Mr. Grives’s last wish was for me to deliver this to you,” he said, handing me an envelope.

I wiped my hands and took it. Inside was a letter.

“Dear sir,

Yesterday, you proved yourself to be a man of good character when you spent your last few dollars on a bottle of water for me. Your kindness and belief in doing good for others have inspired me to repay your goodness with the greatest gift I can give you: my business.

My time in this world is coming to an end. I have recently become apprehensive about leaving my company to my son, as I’ve come to see that he is a selfish, entitled man with a heart of stone. It would greatly ease my conscience if you inherited the company instead. All I ask is that you ensure my son is taken care of and can continue to live a safe, comfortable life.

However, I must warn you that my son will not readily accept my decision. In fact, he will probably do everything in his power to take control of the business. You will have to be on your guard.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” I looked up at the man.

“Mr. Grives was quite serious. And the moment you sign these papers, it’ll be official. You’ll inherit his company as well as other personal assets.”

“But I just met the guy yesterday. And now he’s dead and leaving me everything?” I asked, studying the documents. I had managed several small businesses before falling on hard times, so I wasn’t a stranger to legal language.

“These papers were drawn by the finest lawyers. Mr. Grives was quite clear in his intent. All we need to do is fill in your name, and the lawyers will proceed with the rest.”

This was my chance to provide my kids with a better life, so I signed the documents. The man drove me and my children to our new home.

As we arrived, I stared up at the massive colonial-style mansion at the top of the driveway.

“Can we put up a tent under that tree with pink flowers?” little Derrick asked.

“We’re going to live inside that house, silly! Right, Dad?” Kelly asked.

I nodded, although I could barely believe it myself. But when I pushed the double doors open, something felt wrong. The house was a mess—a table lay on its side in the hallway, a painting was impaled on the banister, and a closet had been toppled over.

I dumped our luggage on the top step, ran after the car, and told the driver to call 911. A few hours later, I stood among slashed sofas and broken furniture, speaking to the cops.

“We’ve examined the entire perimeter of the house and found no sign of forced entry, sir,” the officer said. “This, combined with the fact that the security system appears to have been overridden using the correct code, suggests that whoever vandalized this place had a legitimate means of gaining entry.”

“Like a key? You’re telling me the person who did this just walked in here?”

“I’d suggest you change the locks, sir,” the officer nodded. “Whoever did this was looking for something and got very angry when they didn’t find it.”

As the cops left, I suspected the elderly man’s son was behind everything.

The next day, Mr. Grives’s secretary arrived early. She took me shopping and got me cleaned up at a barber before taking me to the company. In the office that once belonged to Mr. Grives, I was about to go through the files on the computer when the doors burst open.

“You must be Brandon!” A middle-aged man in a dark suit entered the office and shut the door behind him. “I’m Christopher, one of Mr. Grives’s former business partners, and I’m here to save you from a whole heap of trouble.”

“What trouble?” I asked.

Christopher grinned and explained he handled the sales for one of Mr. Grives’s ‘specific’ businesses. I quickly understood it was something illegal. I refused to continue those services, but Christopher wasn’t having it.

“Listen up, you moron! Grives owed me $2 million for handling the illicit side of his business! You’re now responsible for that debt,” he snarled. “And if you don’t pay up, I’ll go to the police and tell them everything. Furthermore, as the company’s owner, you will be liable for all damages and legal ramifications. So, I’ll be expecting my $2 million by Saturday. Or, you can transfer ownership of the entire company to me.”

“What? This is extortion! You can’t be serious!” I retorted.

“Yes, it is. And just in case you think I’m not deadly serious…” Christopher pushed back his suit jacket and placed his hand on the butt of a gun holstered at his side. “…rest assured that if you cross me, Brandon, I’ll make you disappear. The police won’t even find enough of you to ID the body.”

I said nothing and agreed to Christopher’s demands. But I wondered if Christopher was scamming me. So I searched for any hints of this illicit side of the business, but no files or data in the computer gave me the answers I needed.

By that evening, after reviewing the data from all the other departments, I was convinced Christopher was lying. But then, I noticed the filing cabinet tucked into a corner of the room. I unlocked it with the keys I’d found earlier on my desk. And the first thing I noticed was an old-fashioned file box tucked into the drawer.

Inside it was a ledger with entries written in some kind of shorthand, and I realized Christopher wasn’t lying. In despair, I opened a drawer to find some alcohol, thinking bigshot business people had expensive bottles of scotch handy, and found nothing but a photo.

It showed Mr. Grives standing with…a younger guy. My eyes bulged in horror when I realized how similar they looked. The young man was Christopher, Mr. Grives’s son!

Things started making sense to me. I couldn’t believe a kind man like Mr. Grives would be involved in illegal business practices. So, most likely, Christopher was using his own shady dealing to blackmail him, I reasoned.

A stroke of luck and a terrible twist that threatened to take it all away – everything was happening way too fast. Luckily, I was not unfamiliar with the whirlwinds of the business world – I had my share of experience in entrepreneurship before it all went south and I ended up on the streets.

That Saturday morning, I met Christopher in the underground parking lot but with a counteroffer.

“I’ve got to keep my word to your old man,” I said, “so I’ll give you 49 percent of the company while I keep the remaining 51 percent. That’ll be enough for you to live lavishly, right? And I’ll reserve the right to manage the company like your father wanted.”

But Christopher refused. “I’m not a fool! I deserved all of it, not some token! Let’s talk when you come to your senses!” he hissed and left.

Brandon went back to the office. He decided to pay Christopher his $2 million and be done with this but found the company’s money was tied up in assets or allocated to monthly expenses. Brandon was helpless.

He returned home, dejected, where another trouble awaited him. As he opened the front door, he found his kids’ nanny tied to a chair and gagged.

“He took the kids! He said to tell you that this should be your wake-up call!” she cried as he freed her, and Brandon knew who she was talking about.

Brandon called Christopher and agreed to hand over the company, begging him not to hurt the children. They decided to meet at noon. But Brandon also called the police, and in the next half an hour, he was sitting with an FBI agent.

“Just follow my instructions, and we’ll have your kids back…” Agent Bates assured him.

That noon, Christopher was chilling by the poolside of a hotel he’d rented out. He’d locked Brandon’s kids in a closet and dismissed all hotel staff except the manager, whom he had paid handsomely.

When five minutes were left until the deadline, and he didn’t hear from Brandon, Christopher lost his cool. He decided to drown one of the kids in the pool and send the video to Brandon.

“Excuse me, sir,” the manager interrupted him. “You have a package.”

When Christopher checked the envelope, he grinned, forgetting his anger. He strode to his room and signed the paperwork he found inside the envelope. The company was finally his! Then, he freed Brandon’s children. “I’m sure a bunch of ragamuffins like you three can find your way. Now, get lost!”

Rejoicing his victory, Christopher finished getting ready and went to the mirror to fix his tie. Suddenly, he heard a click behind him. Although soft, Christopher instantly recognized the sound of a gun’s safety selector.

“FBI! Put your hands in the air and get onto your knees! You’re under arrest.”

Christopher surrendered. Meanwhile, Brandon held his children close on the sidewalk. Thanks to Agent Bates’s idea of putting a tracker in the documents, Christopher was caught.

“You’ll be filing for bankruptcy before this month is over! And you’ll pay off fines until you die!” Christopher screamed as he was led into the police car.

Brandon took the children home, ready to make everything right. And when the FBI’s fraud division showed up with a warrant, he handed over the evidence—the copy of the company’s records and the ledger he’d found in his office—to the agents, knowing that by the time the investigation was over, he wouldn’t have a penny to his name. But he’d be free.

“Daddy, are we going to leave our home again…just like we did when Mommy died?” Kelly asked him once the agents were gone.

Brandon got down on one knee and hugged his kids.

“Listen, you three, there’s a lot of details that still need to be sorted out, but we’re going to be okay. You want to know why?”

Kelly, Derrick, and his middle child, Sam, looked at him earnestly and nodded.

“It’s because the most valuable thing we have is right here, in my arms. So long as we stick together, we’ll always be rich in the most important way: love. The world’s wealth comes and goes, kids, but the love we share for each other is a treasure nobody can take away from us.”

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