The Street Boy Who Saved the Millionaire's Life
CHAPTER 1 - THE CUP IN HIS HAND
"Woah! What the hell are you doing?!"
One second, the man in the gray suit was lifting the cup to his mouth. The next, a thin boy in torn clothes slammed into his arm, and dark coffee splashed over silk, stone, and polished shoes.
The bodyguard in the black leather jacket was on his feet in an instant. He grabbed the boy hard by the shoulder, twisting him back before he could run. The child let out a sharp breath of pain but didn't cry.
The man in the suit only reached calmly into his pocket, took out a folded handkerchief, and wiped his fingers.
"Let him go."
The bodyguard hesitated.
"Now."
He released the boy, though not gently.
"Why did you do that, kid?"
The boy's face was smeared with dirt. His shirt hung from one shoulder. But his eyes were fierce.
"That coffee was poisoned!"
A few people gasped. The bodyguard gave a short, ugly laugh.
"He's just a crazy street kid, Boss."
The boy pointed straight at him.
"Ask him what he just put in his pocket!"
The suited man's expression changed by one degree. That was enough.
He turned his head slowly toward the bodyguard.
"Why are you shaking?"
"I... I'm not."
But he was. His hand had gone to his pocket without meaning to.
The suited man stood. He reached inside his coat, took out a thick stack of bills, and pushed it into the boy's torn pocket.
"For your trouble."
The boy stared down at the money as if it might burn him.
"What about him?"
The man's voice turned cold.
"I'll take care of it from here."
An hour later, the boy sat on a curb three streets away, still gripping the cash through the fabric. A long black car rolled to a stop in front of him. A second suited man stepped out and opened the rear door.
The boy backed away.
"Where are you taking me?"
The driver lowered his head slightly. "Mr. Balzac has big plans for you."
Then the boy saw something on the seat inside the car.
His own red knitted scarf.
The one he'd left beside his sleeping little sister that morning.
