Sofia flinched and hid behind her brother. Lucas inhaled deeply, forcing his voice to stay calm.

“Sir… we’re not asking for money,” he said carefully. “We noticed your yard is overgrown. If you let us clear the weeds, you don’t have to pay us. Just… maybe some leftover food for our sister. She’s sick with a fever.”

For a moment, Mr. Harrison said nothing.

A breeze swept through the tangled grass, making it ripple in the afternoon light. His gaze moved from Lucas’s thin face to Sofia’s worn sneakers. Their clothes were old but clean. There was no defiance in their eyes—only hunger, and pride.

“Do you even know how to use yard tools?” he asked coldly.

Lucas swallowed. “Yes, sir. I used to help my dad before… before he died.”

The last words barely carried.

Something flickered across the old man’s face. Without another comment, he unlocked the gate.

“The tools are in the shed. If you’re going to work, do it right. I don’t tolerate half-finished jobs.”

Lucas nodded quickly. “Yes, sir!”

Sofia squeezed his hand as they stepped inside.