Over the next few days, Bernard made sure Malik had clean clothes, medical appointments, and, most importantly, a tutor. At first, Malik resisted—he was used to sleeping under bridges, not between silk sheets. But little by little, he began to trust. He devoured books, asked insightful questions, and revealed a mind as hungry as his body had been.
News of the incident at the café spread. The press celebrated Malik as « the hero boy, » although Bernard shielded him from journalists. In private, Bernard admitted to his closest advisor: « He saved me not only from poison, but from myself. I was blind to what was essential. »
A few months later, Bernard created the Green Foundation for street children, with Malik as its first official beneficiary. At the launch ceremony, camera flashes popped as Bernard stood at the podium, Malik beside him in a brand-new suit.
“This boy reminded me that courage comes neither from wealth nor power,” Bernard told the audience. “Sometimes it is the smallest voice that carries the greatest truth. I owe him my life. And I intend to honor that debt—not just to him, but to every child like him.”
The applause was thunderous. Malik blushed, squeezing Bernard’s hand tightly.
That evening, back at the villa, Bernard sat by the fire while Malik read aloud from a history book. The boy’s voice was steady, filled with a newfound confidence. Bernard closed his eyes, listening—not so much to the words as to the sound of a future being rewritten.
He had lost a wife, but he had gained something much greater: a reason to believe again.
And as the snow fell gently against the windows, Bernard understood that his greatest fortune was not measured in dollars, but in the courage of a boy who had once shouted, « Don’t touch it! »
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