His shoes had worn out weeks ago.
Rosa had planned to replace them with her next paycheck.
But the babysitter had canceled.
Rent didn’t wait.
Hunger didn’t wait.
So her son stood there, toes pressed against marble that likely cost more than everything they owned.
The billionaire at the head of the table noticed him first.
He leaned back slowly, a smirk forming—the expression of a man bored enough to entertain himself with cruelty.
“Well,” he said loudly, “looks like we’ve got a guest.”
Laughter rippled around the table.
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