“Where are your parents?”
The chalk broke in his hand. For a moment, the only sound was the wind moving dry leaves across the courtyard. “My mama died,” he said softly. “I don’t know where my father is.” Lily reached for his sleeve. “He lives in the unfinished building near the market.”
Alexander’s gaze shifted between the boy’s worn face and his daughter’s pleading eyes. He was a man who controlled empires, negotiated billion-dollar deals, and commanded respect with a single glance. Yet, faced with this small, heartbroken child, he felt utterly disarmed. “What were you teaching Lily?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.
Benjamin hesitated. “Just…math. She was having trouble with fractions.”
“Fractions?” Alexander raised an eyebrow. “And you understand fractions?”
“I used to help my mama with her recipes,” Benjamin mumbled, looking down at the broken chalk. “She baked pies. Lots of pies.” A single tear traced a clean path through the dirt on his cheek. Alexander found himself reaching into his pocket, pulling out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. He didn’t know why. He simply felt compelled to do something. But before he could offer it, Benjamin looked up, and his eyes held a startling, unsettling wisdom. “I don’t want your money, sir. I just wanted to help Lily.”
