The woman cleaning the house felt sorry for the orphan and fed him while the owners were away. When the wealthy couple returned, they couldn’t believe their eyes.
Emily had worked for the Winterson family for years. That day, the owners were out, and after finishing her chores, she sat by the window for a breather. Suddenly, she spotted a boy walking along the fence. He was scrawny, dressed in tattered clothes, and looked exhausted.
“Poor thing must be starving,” Emily thought, her heart going out to him. Glancing at the clock, she knew the Wintersons wouldn’t be back anytime soon, so she stepped outside.
“Hello, love, what’s your name?” she asked kindly as she approached the boy, who was staring nervously at the street.
“Oliver,” he muttered, eyeing her warily.
“Come with me,” Emily said. “I’ve got some apple pie—fancy a slice?” Without hesitation, the boy followed. He hadn’t eaten all day.
In the kitchen, Emily cut a generous slice and set it in front of him.
“This is brilliant!” Oliver exclaimed between bites. “My mum used to make pies like this.”
“Where is your mum now?” Emily asked gently. The boy stopped eating and looked down.
“I’ve been looking for her… She’s gone missing,” he whispered.
“Eat up, love,” Emily soothed. “You’ll find her.”
Just then, the door swung open—the Wintersons were back. Emily jumped at the sound of footsteps.
“Who’s this, then?” James asked, peering into the kitchen. His eyes widened when he saw the boy.
“Emily, who have you brought in here?” he demanded sharply.
“This lad’s lost his mum. He was hungry, so I thought I’d feed him,” she replied calmly, shrugging.
“So now you’re taking in every stray off the street? What about us?” James huffed.
Hearing this, Oliver burst into tears. “I’ll go now,” he said, pushing the half-eaten pie away.
Charlotte stepped in. “Wait, sweetheart,” she said softly. “Where did you last see your mum?”
She’d always been kinder than her husband, and though James often scolded her for being too soft, he couldn’t change her nature.
“I live with my grandad, but he’s mean. Always shouting,” Oliver admitted, pulling a worn photo from his pocket. “These are my parents. We used to live together.”
Charlotte took the photo and froze—it was their daughter, Sophie.
“James, it’s our girl!” she gasped, her voice trembling as she handed him the picture.
James frowned, taking it. “Oliver, where did you get this?”
“Found it at Grandad’s. There was an address on the back, so I came here. I thought Mum might be here,” the boy said, calming slightly. “Grandad said she left me, but I don’t believe him!”
“It can’t be!” Charlotte whispered, remembering how their daughter Sophie had run off years ago with a man named Paul. They’d heard nothing for years—until she came back… only to die in a car crash on her way home. That day had shattered them, leaving just the two of them.
“Where’s your dad?” James asked.
“Gone. Died six months ago,” Oliver said, tears welling up again.
The couple was stunned. They’d found their grandson! After years of loneliness, they decided to keep him.
“Listen, little man,” Charlotte said, “we’ll take you to your room now.”
“Will Mum come too?” Oliver asked.
“Your mum’s with your dad now,” she answered sadly.
Oliver went pale.
Before long, the couple sorted the adoption papers. The grandfather didn’t object, relieved the boy would be raised well-off.
Emily was over the moon. Thanks to that day—and a chance meeting—the Wintersons had happiness again. Soon, Oliver wasn’t a ragged orphan anymore. He became a well-dressed lad with good manners and a family who adored him.
