The assistant nodded, moved despite himself.
“Good people deserve good rewards,” Daniel said calmly. “Anyone who can show kindness to someone they believe is nothing has something rare inside them. Those are the people we invest in.”
The assistant cleared his throat. “Chairman, the annual wealth summit has begun. Guests are arriving. Should we return so you can host?”
“You go first,” Daniel said, standing slowly. He lifted the bowl, looking at the coins inside, not as money but as evidence. “I’ll come later.”
The assistant returned to the car.
Daniel turned to walk away from the wall like a man leaving a role he had played long enough.
He had barely taken ten steps when a voice stopped him.
“Daniel.”
He turned.
A young woman stood a few steps away, holding her handbag close, eyes wide with confusion. She was beautiful in a quiet, natural way—gentle eyes, calm features, a softness that didn’t feel weak. Her name was Felicia Adami. They had gone to the same school years ago, but they were never close.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice low. “Why are you like this?”
Daniel looked at her steadily.
“I was called to work at Dreamchasing Group,” Felicia continued quickly, as if she needed to prove she wasn’t there to mock him. “They told me to report immediately. Then I saw you and… I couldn’t believe it.”
She paused, swallowing. “Daniel… why are you begging? You used to do business. People said you were building something.”
Daniel could have ended everything with one sentence. He could have smiled and said, I own the company you’re rushing to.
But he didn’t.
“My business failed,” he said simply.
Felicia stared at him, eyes drifting to the bowl in his hand, then back to his face. Pain tightened in her chest—not just shock, but the kind of pain you feel when you see someone reduced and you wish you could rewrite the moment.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish you didn’t have to go through all this.”
Then she did something Daniel had not seen in a month of street life.
She didn’t ask for proof. She didn’t preach. She didn’t take a picture.
She reached out and held his hand.
“You can’t stay here,” she said firmly. “I can’t leave you on the street.”
Daniel watched her carefully, guarded by experience. He had seen pity. He had seen cruelty. He had seen kindness that wanted something back.
But the way Felicia looked at him now carried concern and respect. It unsettled him more than insults ever could.
“Do you dislike me now?” he asked quietly, as if he didn’t want the answer.
Felicia frowned in genuine surprise. “Dislike you? Daniel… I admired you back then. You were quiet, but you carried yourself like someone with a plan. I used to notice that.” Her voice dropped. “And I won’t lie. I liked you. I just never thought you’d look in my direction.”
Daniel stared at her, stunned by how honest it sounded—especially now, when he looked like a man with nothing.
“You don’t mind?” he asked carefully. “Even like this?”
“If you will have me,” she said simply, “I don’t mind.”
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