The bitter wind stung Richard’s skin as he approached one of his company’s final branch offices. Disguised in ragged clothes, he no longer looked like the wealthy founder. Instead, he was Richie — just another homeless man.
For a month, he had traveled from branch to branch, posing as someone down on his luck, testing whether the people in charge still lived by the values he built the company on. So far, the results were grim — cold shoulders, turned backs, and not a shred of empathy.
This branch, managed by Tom — a young man Richard had once mentored — was his last hope.
As he neared the door, a man bumped into him and sneered, “Watch where you’re going, you bum.”
Richard said nothing. He had grown used to it.
Inside, he approached the security guard.
“What do you want?” the guard snapped.
“Just a bit of warmth. Maybe something to eat,” Richard replied.
“This ain’t a shelter. Get out of here.”
“Please. Can you call Tom? He might help.”
The guard scoffed. “Tom wouldn’t waste a second on a guy like you.”
Still, he reluctantly called. As they waited, Richard eyed a nearby couch.
“Don’t even think about it,” the guard warned.
Just then, a young woman walked in. She smiled politely at the guard but paused when she noticed Richard. Her expression softened.
“Sir, are you alright?”
“I just need somewhere warm. Maybe some food.”
She immediately handed him her water bottle. “Come with me, we’ve got food upstairs.”
He hesitated. “But it’s your water.”
“It’s alright. I want to help.”
Before they could move, the guard stepped between them. “Tom said no one’s allowed in.”
She frowned. “This man’s not hurting anyone. What’s your name, sir?”
“Richie.”
“Well, Richie just needs a meal. Why treat him like trash?”
Before the guard could respond, the elevator opened and Tom stepped out, clearly annoyed.
“What’s going on?”
“I just need a warm place and something to eat,” Richard said calmly.
Tom glared. “We’re not a soup kitchen. Get out. You’re making us look bad.”
The woman spoke again. “Tom, he’s just hungry.”
