“I’ll repay you when I’m older,” the homeless girl pleaded as she asked the millionaire for a small carton of milk for her crying baby brother — and his reaction stunned everyone.

A couple of people slowed nearby, pretending to check their phones while listening. Someone whispered his name under their breath, recognizing him. Expectations hung in the air — most of them assuming he would shake his head, maybe hand her a bill, maybe nothing at all, and move on.

Instead, Nathaniel did something that surprised even himself. He crouched down so they were at eye level. The concrete was warm through his suit pants, an odd detail his mind latched onto.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twelve,” she replied. “My name’s Ava. This is my brother, Ben.”

Ben’s cries softened as if sensing the attention, his small hand curling against Ava’s sleeve.

Nathaniel felt something stir in his chest, an old, unwelcome memory. He had been younger than Ava when his own mother used to ration meals, pretending she wasn’t hungry so he could eat. He hadn’t thought about that in decades. Success had a way of burying inconvenient memories.

“Stay right here,” he said, standing. “I’ll be back.”

Inside the grocery store, the air was cool and smelled faintly of bread and disinfectant. The cashier looked up, startled when Nathaniel placed a basket on the counter already filled with items — formula, milk, baby food, diapers, wipes, and more than a few things that would last. He added a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter almost as an afterthought.