It was a cool evening in the east end of the city, one of those evenings when you walk faster by keeping your eyes on the ground. At the corner of Maple and 5th, traffic hummed without a break, and no one seemed to notice the old woman standing near the alley, wearing only a light sweater, confused and shivering.
Passersby brushed past her. A man in a suit glanced briefly, then looked away. A young woman raised her phone, typed something, and continued on her way.
No one stopped.
Until a boy on a battered old green bicycle did it. Used bicycles
Thirteen-year-old Malik had just finished helping out at the community center where he volunteered after school. His hoodie was ripped, his jeans worn, and his bicycle, a secondhand donation, had a bent pedal. But his eyes—curious, kind, and sharp—missed nothing.
He immediately noticed the old lady.
She stood there, like a ghost in the golden twilight, looking around as if the world had forgotten her.
Malik braked and came to a gentle stop.
« Are you all right, madam? » he asked, his voice cautious but warm. Used bicycles
She looked at him; his eyes were grey, tired but alert. « I… I don’t know where I am. I thought this was the way to the market, but nothing seems familiar. »
Malik frowned. « Are you alone? »
« Yes, » she said breathlessly. « I went out a while ago. I needed some air. And now… I can’t remember how to get back in. »
He glanced around them. Still no one was stopping. Some were just glancing over, without paying any attention.
« Get in, » he said after a moment. « I’ll help you find your way. »
The woman blinked in surprise. « Are you offering to walk me home? »
« Well… it’s not a limousine, » he replied with a smile, « but it gets the job done. »
The woman gave a soft laugh. Then, slowly, she climbed onto the luggage rack. It wasn’t very graceful, but Malik helped her steady herself.
« My name is Malik, » he said, turning into the quiet street. « And yours? »
« Vivian, » she replied softly. « Vivian Delacroix. »
Through memories, by bike. Used bikes.
They wandered through alleyways and narrow streets, while the sun dissolved behind the buildings. Vivian’s memory was hazy, but sometimes a glimmer returned— »That tree looks familiar, » or « There used to be a shop on that corner. »
Malik listened attentively, trying to connect the clues to what he knew about the neighborhood. He didn’t know her last name, nor did he suspect anything unusual. To him, she was just a lost old woman who needed help.
« I usually live with my nurse, » she said in a low voice. « But today, I ran away. I miss walking. I miss people. »
« I understand, » said Malik. « You don’t like being idle? » Family Games
She smiled. « Not without reason, no. And you? Shouldn’t you be at home? »
« My grandmother works late. I help out at the center after school. It keeps me out of trouble. »
Vivian looked at him, touched. « You’re a good boy. »
“I’m trying,” he replied with a shrug. “You remind me of my grandmother, actually. She always says, ‘Kindness costs nothing, but it buys everything.’”
Vivian laughed heartily. « I already love him. »
A familiar portal
After nearly an hour of driving slowly and talking, they emerged onto an upscale avenue. The scenery changed. The windows were larger, the gates edged with gold. Malik looked around nervously—he didn’t often travel through this area.
Vivian hiccuped.
« There, » she said, pointing faintly. « That gate. I remember that gate. »
It was tall, made of wrought iron, with elegant letters twisted into the metal: D. ESTATES.
Malik’s eyes widened. « Wait… you live here? »
Vivian nodded slowly. « This is my home. »
He stopped at the entrance. A security guard approached, then froze when he recognized the woman on the bicycle. Used bicycles
« Mrs. Delacroix! » he exclaimed. « Where have you been?! We’ve been looking everywhere for you! »
Malik got off the bike while the guard helped Vivian to her feet. A nurse rushed over a few seconds later, tears in her eyes.
« I’m fine, » Vivian said softly. « I was in good hands. »
She turned to Malik and smiled. « This young man saved me. »
The truth about the billionaire
Malik was still struggling to take it all in: the grounds, the fountain, the armed guard, the staff pouring in, when another man stepped forward—tall, gray-haired, impeccably dressed. Used bicycles
« Vivian, » he said with relief. « We called the police, the hospital— »
« I’m fine, Daniel, » she interrupted. « Thanks to Malik. »
Daniel turned to the boy. « Do you have any idea who she is? »
Malik shook his head.
« That’s Vivian Delacroix. She owns Delacroix Holdings. Her fortune is in the billions. »
Malik blinked. « Like… with nine zeros? »
Vivian laughed again. « Yes, my dear. With nine zeros. But tonight, I was just an old lady who had gotten lost. »
She took a card embossed with fine gold from her pocket. « You offered me more than a path. You offered me dignity, without knowing who I was. I will not forget it. »
Malik stared at the card. It had his name, a number, and a handwritten note:
« Call me whenever you want. I’d like to talk about your future. »
A call that changed everything
Two days had passed since Malik had walked Vivian Delacroix home, and he still hadn’t dialed the number on the gold card. Not that he didn’t want to—he just didn’t know what to say.
Sitting on the edge of his bed in their small apartment, he held the map in one hand and stared at the ceiling. His grandmother noticed.
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