A homeless and poor Brandon offers his last $2 to an elderly man in need at the gas station store and inherits his company the next day. Brandon thinks this is the start of a new life for his family.
Brandon clutched his paper cup with change as he shuffled into the gas station store. He was near an aisle when a loud voice distracted him. He saw a queue of angry shoppers waiting behind an elderly man who had difficulty hearing.
“I’m sorry, what did you say about the water being funny?” the elderly man asked the cashier.
“Money!” she groaned. “I said you don’t have enough money, sir!”
“Yes, it was a sunny day!” replied the man with a frown.
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“You need more cash! For the water!” A younger guy standing behind the man grabbed him by the shoulder and yelled into his ears.
Brandon noticed everything. He was tempted to step in, but he didn’t want to attract the shoppers’ ire. Meanwhile, the elderly man explained he didn’t have enough cash, asking if he could get a smaller bottle of water as he needed to take his pills.
“If you can’t afford to pay, you’ll have to go!” shouted the cashier.
“I can go?” He smiled and turned to leave, but the cashier snatched the water bottle from his hand. “Just get out, old man!” she hissed. “You’re way too much trouble!”
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The elderly man requested that he needed to take his pills, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.
Brandon had had enough. He marched to the cashier and offered to pay for the old guy.
“Have a heart, lady,” he said and emptied his cup on the counter. The woman looked at him in distaste before she counted the money.
“That’ll cover it,” she said, taking all the money, including his last $2. “Now step aside. You’re holding the line.”
Brandon abandoned his can of beans on the counter as he offered the water to the older man.
“Here you go, sir. I got you water,” he spoke slowly and clearly, ensuring the man could see his face if he needed to lip-read. And the man thanked him. They left the store together, and Brandon headed to his tent on the bare patch of ground adjacent to the station, but the man stopped him.
“Wait!”
Brandon turned around.
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“Why did you help me when you obviously needed the money?” asked the older man.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being homeless, sir,” said Brandon, “it’s that the world works when people are kind to each other.”
“But what are your kids going to eat? You left the beans on the counter.”
“We have the last of yesterday’s bread,” Brandon replied. “We’ll get by.”
The man walked away but with a frown. Brandon noticed he got in a gleaming SUV and wondered why a man like him couldn’t afford a bottle of water.
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The next day, while Brandon was dividing cold fries among his kids, a silver sedan pulled up near his tent. A man in a fancy suit approached.
“Morning, sir. Mr. Grives’s last wish was for me to deliver this to you,” he said, extending an envelope.
Brandon wiped his hands and took it. There was a letter inside.
“Dear sir,
Yesterday, you proved yourself to be a man of good character when you spent your last few dollars for me. Your kindness and belief in doing good for others have inspired me to repay your goodness with the greatest gift I can give you: my business.
My time in this world is coming to an end. I have recently become apprehensive about leaving my company to my son, as I’ve come to see that he is a selfish man with a heart of stone. It would greatly ease my conscience if you inherited the company instead. All I ask is that you ensure my son is taken care of and can continue to live a safe, comfortable life.”
“Is this a joke?” Brandon looked up at the man.
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The man produced a stack of printed papers and a pen. “Mr. Grives was quite serious. And the moment you sign these papers, it’ll be official.”
“But I just met the guy yesterday. And now he’s dead and leaving me everything?” Brandon asked as he studied the documents.
“I understand your concerns, sir, but these papers were drawn by the finest lawyers. All we need to do is fill in your name, and the lawyers will proceed with the rest.”
This was his chance to provide his kids, so Brandon signed it. Then, the man drove him and the children to their new home.
As they arrived, Brandon stared up at the massive mansion.
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Brandon could barely believe it himself. But the moment he pushed the double doors open, he sensed something was wrong. The house was a mess—a table lay on its side in the hallway, and a closet had been toppled over.
Brandon dumped the luggage, ran after the car, and told the driver to call 911. A few hours later, he stood among slashed sofas and broken furniture, speaking to the cops.
“We’ve examined the entire house and found no sign of forced entry, sir,” the officer said. “This, combined with the fact that the security system appears to have been overridden using the correct code, suggests that whoever vandalized this place had a legitimate means of gaining entry.”
“Like a key? So, the person who did this just walked in here?”
“I’d suggest you change the locks, sir,” the officer nodded.
As the cops left, Brandon suspected the elderly man’s son.
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The next day, Mr. Grives’s secretary arrived early. She took Brandon shopping and got him cleaned up at a barber before taking him to the company. In the office that once belonged to Mr. Grives, Brandon was about to go through the files on the computer when the doors burst open.
“You must be Brandon!” A middle-aged man in a dark suit entered the office. “I’m Christopher, one of Mr. Grives’s former business partners, and I’m here to save you from a whole heap of trouble.”
“I’m sorry?” Brandon asked.
Christopher explained he handled the sales for one of Mr. Grives’s ‘specific’ businesses. Brandon quickly understood it was something illegal. He refused to continue it, but Christopher was having none of it.
“Listen up, you moron! Grives owed me $2 million for handling the illicit side of his business! You’re now responsible for that,” he snarled. “And if you don’t pay up, I’ll go to the police and tell them everything. Furthermore, as the company’s owner, you will be liable for all damages. So, I’ll be expecting my $2 million by Saturday.”
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“What? This is extortion! You can’t be serious!” Brandon retorted.
“Yes, it is. And just in case you think I’m not deadly serious…” Christopher pushed back his suit jacket and placed his hand on the butt of a gun holstered at his side. “…rest assured that if you cross me, Brandon, I’ll make you disappear.”
Brandon said nothing and agreed to Christopher’s demands. But he wondered if Christopher was scamming him. So Brandon searched for any hints of this illicit side of the business.
By that evening, after reviewing the data from all the other departments, Brandon was convinced Christopher was lying. But then, he noticed the filing cabinet tucked into a corner of the room. Brandon unlocked it with the keys he’d found earlier on his desk. And the first thing he noticed was an old-fashioned file box tucked into the drawer.
Inside it was a ledger with entries written in some kind of shorthand, and Brandon realized Christopher wasn’t lying. In despair, he opened a drawer to find some bottles of scotch handy, and found nothing but a photo.
It showed Mr. Grives standing with…a younger guy. Brandon’s eyes bulged in horror when he realized how similar they looked. The young man was Christopher, Mr. Grives’s son!
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Things started making sense to Brandon. He couldn’t believe a kind man like Mr. Grives would be involved in illegal business practices. So, most likely, Christopher was using his own shady dealing to blackmail him, Brandon reasoned.
A stroke of luck and a terrible twist that threatened to take it all away – everything was happening way too fast. Luckily, Brandon was not unfamiliar with the whirlwinds of the business world.
That Saturday, Brandon met Christopher in the underground parking lot but with a counteroffer.
“I’ve got to keep my word to your old man,” Brandon said, “so I’ll give you 49 percent of the company while I keep the remaining 51 percent. That’ll be enough for you to live lavishly, right? And I’ll reserve the right to manage the company like your father wanted.”
But Christopher refused. “I’m not a fool! I deserved all of it, not some token! Let’s talk when you come to your senses!” he hissed and left.
Brandon went back to the office. He decided to pay Christopher his $2 million and be done with this but found the company’s money was tied up in assets or allocated to monthly expenses. Brandon was helpless.
He returned home, dejected, where another trouble awaited him. As he opened the front door, he found his kids’ nanny tied to a chair and gagged.
“He took the kids! He said to tell you that this should be your wake-up call!” she cried as he freed her, and Brandon knew who she was talking about.
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Brandon called Christopher and agreed to hand over the company, begging him not to hurt the children. They decided to meet at noon. But Brandon also called the police, and in the next half an hour, he was sitting with an FBI agent.
“Just follow my instructions, and we’ll have your kids back…” Agent Bates assured him.
That noon, Christopher was chilling by the poolside of a hotel he’d rented out. He’d locked Brandon’s kids in a closet and dismissed all hotel staff except the manager, whom he had paid handsomely.
“Excuse me, sir,” the manager interrupted him. “You have a package.”
When Christopher checked the envelope, he grinned. He strode to his room and signed the paperwork he found inside the envelope. The company was finally his! Then, he freed Brandon’s children. “I’m sure a bunch of ragamuffins like you four can find your way. Now, get lost!”
]Christopher finished getting ready. Suddenly, he heard a click behind him. Although soft, Christopher instantly recognized the sound of a gun’s safety selector.
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“FBI! Put your hands in the air! You’re under arrest.”
Meanwhile, Brandon held his children close on the sidewalk. Thanks to Agent Bates’s idea of putting a tracker in the documents, Christopher was caught.
Brandon took the children home, ready to make everything right. And when the FBI’s fraud division showed up with a warrant, he handed over the evidence—the copy of the company’s records and the ledger he’d found in his office—to the agents, knowing that by the time the investigation was over, he wouldn’t have a penny to his name. But he’d be free.
“Daddy, are we going to leave our home…just when Mommy died?” Kelly asked him.
Brandon got down on one knee and hugged his kids.
“Listen, you four, we’re going to be okay. You want to know why?”
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Kids looked at him earnestly and nodded.
“It’s because the most valuable thing we have is right here, in my arms. So long as we stick together, we’ll always be rich in the most important way: love.”
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A TV presenter with a Māori face tattoo fires back at cruel trolls.
Reiterating her pride in her cultural heritage and identity, a TV hostess with a customary Māori face tattoo gracefully responded to trolling remarks.
These pictures often start online debates about facial tattoos. Some people accept the cultural significance of these motifs, while others think tattoos should only be placed to the body.
Oriini Kaipara, 41, is a trailblazing TV presenter who made history at Newshub in New Zealand when she began her career as a newsreader. She was the first to present a primetime TV news report while donning the traditional Māori women’s marking, the moko kauae.
Moko kauae are vitally significant symbols of Māori history and identity, as they are considered by the native Polynesian population of the mainland of New Zealand. These facial tattoos, which are typically applied to the lips and chins, honor a woman’s heritage, status, and skills while also denoting her leadership in her community and within her family.
However, in the midst of all the appreciation, Newshub received an email from a viewer named David who was unhappy with Kaipara’s moko kauae.
He responded, “We continue to object strongly to you using a Māori newsreader with a moku [moko], which is offensive and aggressive looking,” as reported by the Daily Mail.A nasty look. She also speaks incoherently in our non-English tongue, Māori. Now put an end to it.
Kaipara boldly addressed the issue head-on in spite of David’s disparaging remarks, sharing images of the messages on her Instagram story and responding in a refined and polite way.
“Today, I’d had enough.” I responded. I never behave like that. She posted a picture of David’s message to Instagram with the remark, “I hit the send button and broke my own code.”
Furthermore, Kaipara made public the email discussion she had with David in which she said she couldn’t take David’s complaint seriously “given there is no breach of broadcast standards.”
She also made an effort to correct his spelling of “moko,” as David had referred to hers as “moku.”
Kaipara stated in her email, “I understand your complaints originate from a place of preference on how one must look on-screen.” This kind of intolerance, harassment, or prejudice is not warranted for Moko and others around her; they are not dangerous.
“We don’t intend to cause harm or have any bad intentions, and neither do we/I deserve to be treated with such disregard,” she continued. “Please stop complaining and wait until a later time, preferably the 1800s, to express your cultural ignorance and bias.”
Kaipara swiftly stressed that most of her comments are pleasant and that ugly trolls are uncommon, even in the wake of David’s negative remarks.
Shortly after responding to David’s complaint, Kaipara spoke with the New Zealand Herald about the need for more Māori activists. “The fact that some people find my existence upsetting is evidence of the need for more Māori advocates in important positions throughout every sector,” she stated.
All things considered, Kaipara’s cool response serves as a powerful reminder of the importance of cultural pride and resilience in the face of adversity. She is also inspiring people to embrace their identities with courage and speak out against discrimination.
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