Small. Dirty. Offered with strange seriousness. Andrew took it. The grip was firm—like someone who knew things disappear if you don’t hold tight.
Caleb studied Andrew’s ruined face, then asked with fearless simplicity:
“Can I hug you?”
Andrew froze.
“A hug?”
Caleb nodded. “You look like you need one.”
Andrew felt the last wall inside him give way.
“Yes,” he said softly. “You can.”
Caleb stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Andrew’s neck.
And Andrew broke completely.
They stayed there under the streetlight—the fallen tycoon and the barefoot child—while the city passed without noticing.
And for the first time that day, Andrew realized something terrifying and true:
This wasn’t the end of his story.
It was the beginning of the reckoning.
Andrew turned himself in the next morning.
The headlines were brutal. The sentence was real. The cell was small and unforgiving.
But something unexpected happened during those long months behind bars.
Andrew stopped trying to control everything.
He listened instead.