The next day, Edward returned to his office, his mind restless. The events from the market still haunted himthe outraged shouts of the crowd, the womans piercing gaze that seemed to see straight into his soul. He tried to shrug it off. “They dont understand,” he muttered. “Lifes a battle. The weak fall, the strong rise.”
Yet his conscience nagged at him. Those eyes Why were they so familiar?
The following morning, his business partner, Mr. Whitmore, strode into the office with a grim expression.
“Edward, we have a problem,” he said sharply. “That scene at the marketits gone viral. The videos everywhere. Thousands are calling you out. If we dont act fast, your reputation will be in tatters.”
“What?” Edward snapped, but when he saw the footagehis own face on the screen, kicking a frail womanhis blood ran cold. The caption was brutal: “Millionaire Humiliates Starving Mother.”
Whitmore sighed. “Listen. Find her. Offer her money, a place to live. Do it in front of the cameras. Make it look like charity. Its your only chance.”
Edward clenched his teeth and nodded. He hated grovelling, but his name meant everything.
That afternoon, he returned to the market. And there she wassame ragged coat, same sorrow in her eyes. She didnt flinch when she saw him, just watched silently.
“Madam,” Edward began coldly. “Id like to make amends for yesterday. Ill give you money. A home. Food.”
The woman studied him, searching his face as if digging through memories. Then, softly, she whispered,
“Eddie?”
His heart skipped. That namespoken so tenderlyonly one person had ever called him that. His mother.
“What did you say?” he asked, voice trembling.
The woman clasped her shaking hands.
“Eddie my boy is it really you?”
Edward stepped back.
“Thats impossible. My mother died. Twenty years ago.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“No, my son. Im alive. Your father took you from me when you were six. I searched for years. Wrote letters, beggednever got a reply. I lost everything except hope.”
A tightness gripped Edwards chest. Memories surfacedthe scent of cheap soap, gentle fingers in his hair, fragments of a lullaby. He didnt want to believe it.
“This is a trick. You just want money,” he growled, but the anger in his voice faltered.
Slowly, she reached into her coat and pulled out a crumpled photo. A little boy stared backsix years old, clutching a toy carthe same one Edward had played with as a child. Beside him, the woman, younger now, smiling.
All his resistance collapsed. His knees buckled.
“My God” he whispered. “Mum and II kicked you”
Tears spilled down his face. The millionaire, whod built his empire with a cold, unfeeling glare, now knelt in the street before a woman in tattered clothes.
“Forgive me” he sobbed. “I didnt know I couldnt see”
Margaret reached up and cupped his face. Her hands were frail, but her touch was full of love.
“No forgiveness needed, Eddie. I always knew youd find your way back to me. My love never faded.”
A crowd had gathered. No one spoke. They watched as the broken man embraced the woman hed thought lost forever.
Days later, newspapers ran new headlines: “Millionaire Reunites with Homeless Mother.” But Edward didnt care about that now. He took her home, called doctors, made sure she had every comfort. Yet what mattered more were the hours they spent talking. Margaret told him of the years alone, her struggles, her pain, her unwavering hope.
Edward listened. And for the first time, he felt something inside him heal. The emptiness no wealth could fill was finally fading.
One evening, as they sat on the terrace, Edward squeezed her hand.
“You know, Mum, for years I thought money gave my life meaning. But now now I realise I wasnt chasing fortune. I was chasing you.”
Margaret smiled, her tears glistening.
“Family is what gives life meaning, my boy. Never forget that.”
And in that moment, Edward truly understood: no gold, no palace, could ever compare to a single wordMother.
