Richard stood and walked to the window, looking out at the city. “I’ve spent the last three months trying to be better, treating people with dignity, actually caring about the employees who work for me. And you know what I’ve discovered?”
“What?”
“I’m happier than I’ve been in twenty years,” Richard said simply. “I sleep better. I actually enjoy coming to work. I’ve reconnected with my daughter. Did I tell you I have a daughter? She’s twenty-five, and for years she wouldn’t speak to me because I’d been such a terrible father. But she called me last week. She said she’d heard about the changes I was making, and she wanted to meet for coffee.”
Marcus smiled. “Did you go?”
“We had coffee for three hours,” Richard said, his voice thick with emotion. “Three hours of actually talking, actually listening to each other. I told her about you and Emma, about your mother. I told her I was trying to learn how to be a better person.”
“What did she say?”
“She said it was about time,” Richard laughed. “But she also said she was proud of me. Do you know how long it’s been since anyone said they were proud of me? Not impressed by my money or my success, but actually proud of me as a person?”
Emma looked up from her book. “I’m proud of you, Mr. Blackwell.”
The simple statement, delivered with such sincere conviction, nearly undid Richard completely. He had to clear his throat several times before he could respond.
“Thank you, Emma. That means more than you know.”
James Morrison appeared in the doorway, knocking gently. “Sorry to interrupt, but Richard, the Channel 7 news crew is here for the interview.”
“Interview?” Marcus asked.
“Richard had been planning to tell Marcus about this, but the foundation proposal had derailed his plans.
“I’ve been asked to do an interview about the changes we’ve made at the bank. I was going to ask if you’d be willing to participate, but you’re under no obligation.”
“What kind of interview?” Marcus asked cautiously.
“They want to talk about how encountering you changed my perspective on leadership and human dignity,” Richard explained. “But I won’t do it without your permission. Your story is your own.”
Marcus thought for a moment. “Will it help other people? Other kids who are struggling?”
“I believe it could,” Richard said honestly. “It might inspire other business leaders to examine how they treat their employees. It might help people understand that everyone deserves dignity and respect, regardless of their job or income.”
“Then I’ll do it,” Marcus decided. “But I want to talk about my mom, about who she really was.”
The interview took place in the bank’s conference room. The reporter, a woman named Sarah Chen—no relation to Marcus, though the coincidence made everyone pause—was professional but warm. She’d done her research and approached the story with genuine interest, rather than looking for scandal.
“Mr. Blackwell,” Sarah began. “Three months ago, you were known as one of the most ruthless executives in private banking. Your management style was described as cutthroat and intimidating. What changed?”
Richard looked at Marcus, who nodded encouragingly.
“I met a 12-year-old boy who showed me that I’d been measuring success with the wrong metrics,” Richard said. “Marcus walked into my bank looking for help, and I humiliated him in front of a room full of people because he didn’t look wealthy. I judged him based on his appearance, his circumstances, his poverty.”
“And then?” Sarah prompted.
“And then I discovered he was one of the wealthiest clients in the building,” Richard said. “But more importantly, I learned about his mother. Linda Chen worked three jobs cleaning offices and doing laundry. She wore the same few outfits for years. She sometimes went without eating so her children could have dinner. And while she was doing all of that, she was building a future for her kids that was more impressive than anything I’d ever accomplished.”
Marcus took over the story, talking about his mother with a mixture of pride and grief that was heartbreaking to witness. He talked about her sacrifices, her love, her final gift to her children. Emma chimed in occasionally with memories of their mother braiding her hair before school, of tucking them in at night no matter how exhausted she was…
