“Sir—!” his longtime driver, Thomas, barely had time to warn him before slamming on the brakes.
Under a flickering streetlamp, a tiny figure appeared out of nowhere—a little girl, no older than five, barefoot and soaked, running straight toward the SUV. She waved her thin arms frantically, her small body trembling as icy water splashed around her feet.
“Please! Help! Please!” she cried, her voice breaking.
Richard leaned forward, his pulse quickening.
The girl pointed behind her.
There, on a patch of soaked cardboard near the sidewalk, lay a young woman—heavily pregnant, writhing in pain, her face twisted in agony as the storm poured down on her. Her cries were weak now, strained, almost fading.
Something inside Richard shifted.
Something he hadn’t felt in years.
“Open the doors,” he ordered, his voice sharp.
Before Thomas could respond, Richard was already out of the vehicle, his expensive suit instantly soaked as he dropped to his knees beside the woman. Mud and rain ruined the polished image he had spent a lifetime maintaining—but he didn’t care.
The little girl grabbed his sleeve, her eyes wide with terror.
“My mom… please… her name is Emily… please don’t let her die…”