From the polished hills of Beverly Hills to a worn-down street in East Los Angeles, lined with cracked sidewalks and tangled power lines.
He stopped in front of a small, weathered house and knocked.
An older woman opened the door, eyeing him coldly.
“You the man who made her come home crying yesterday?” she asked.
Before he could answer, Lucy appeared behind her.
She stepped outside, arms crossed.
“What do you want, Mr. Hayes?” she said. “Came to yell at me here too?”
Alexander Hayes—the man who commanded boardrooms—fell to his knees on the sidewalk.
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. “I saw the video. I saw the cake. I was a coward. A jealous, broken coward. Please… they need you.”
Lucy looked down at him.
“You’re wrong,” she said quietly. “They need you.”
“They’re afraid of me.”
“Because you tried to replace love with money,” she replied. “They didn’t need ponies or toys. They needed you on the floor with them, crying.”
He swallowed hard.
“I know. Please… come back. I’ll pay you anything.”