Chapter 7 - The Home Visit
The walk to Maya’s home took fifteen minutes, taking them away from the polished glass facades of the financial district and deep into the older, forgotten alleys of the east side.
The buildings here were packed tightly together, their brick facades weathered and stained by decades of city soot. Paint peeled from wooden window frames, and narrow metal fire escapes zigzagged upward like crooked ladders against the gray afternoon sky.
Ethan followed Maya up three flights of creaking wooden stairs in a tenement building that smelled faintly of boiled cabbage, laundry detergent, and damp wood.
Maya stopped in front of apartment 3B, a battered green door with a brass number three that was hanging sideways by a single screw. She didn't bother knocking; she turned the old brass knob and pushed it open.
“Mom! Lily! I’m back!” Maya called out excitedly, stepping inside.
Ethan ducked his head slightly as he stepped through the doorway. The apartment was shockingly small, consisting of a single cramped room divided by a faded floral bedsheet hung from a ceiling wire. Despite the obvious poverty, the linoleum floor was scrubbed clean, and a stack of neatly folded clothes sat on a plastic crate in the corner.
A pale, exhausted woman with dark circles under her eyes rushed out from behind the curtained partition, wiping her hands on a worn dish towel.
“Maya? Thank God, you shouldn't have been wandering the streets alone—!” Her voice cut off instantly as she looked past Maya and saw a towering, immaculately dressed billionaire standing in the middle of her tiny kitchen.
Clara Vance—though no relation to the bank guard—froze. Her eyes darted from Ethan’s expensive Italian leather shoes up to his tailored suit jacket, and finally to his composed, kind face.
“M-Mom, don't be scared,” Maya said, rushing forward and holding up the heavy brown pharmacy bag. “Look! I went to the bank to sell my dolls, and Mr. Carter bought them! He gave me money for Lily’s medicine, and he came home with us!”
Clara’s hands flew to her mouth, her breath catching in her throat. She looked down at the bag, then back at Ethan, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Sir... I don't know who you are,” Clara whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of shock and deep maternal pride. “We... we don't have any money to pay you back. I lost my sewing job last month, and—and I don't know what kind of trouble Maya got into at the bank, but please don't take her away. She only wanted to help her sister.”
Ethan took a step forward, raising his hands in a placating gesture. He wanted to make sure she felt completely safe in her own home.
“Mrs. Vance, please relax,” Ethan said, his voice steady and reassuring. “Maya didn't get into trouble. She engaged in a legitimate commercial transaction. She brought a high-value product to the market, and I recognized its worth.”
From behind the floral bedsheet, a weak, raspy cough echoed through the room.
Clara immediately turned and rushed behind the partition. “Lily, sweetheart, here’s your medicine. Your big sister brought it.”
Ethan followed Clara behind the curtain. On a narrow twin cot lay a little girl who looked to be about five years old, her cheeks flushed with a low-grade fever, her breathing shallow and wheezing.
Without hesitation, Ethan stepped forward, taking the leadership role he was so accustomed to in corporate boardrooms, but applying it now to heal a family in desperate need.
“Mrs. Vance, we are not staying in this apartment any longer,” Ethan said with absolute finality.
Clara looked up, startled. “Sir?”
“Within the hour, a medical transport will arrive to take Lily to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital for a complete respiratory evaluation and treatment,” Ethan instructed calmly. “Furthermore, my corporate foundation owns a residential complex three blocks away with fully furnished family units, complete with secure heating, electricity, and medical stipends. You and your daughters will move in tonight.”
May you like
Clara stared at him, overwhelmed, her knees shaking as she gripped the edge of the cot. “Mr... Mr. Carter, I can't accept charity like this. It’s too much. We can't possibly—!”
“It is not charity, Mrs. Vance,” Ethan smiled warmly, looking down at Maya, who was holding her sister’s small, feverish hand. “It is an investment. And as the chairman of Carter Atlas, I never make bad investments.”
