Nathan slid into the backseat of his black sedan, phone in hand, tie sharp, and face clouded with the usual detachment. Another day, another empire to run. Ruben, his driver, was already behind the wheel, waiting for the green light to fade.
Just as the car eased into motion, Ruben slammed on the brakes.
Nathan jerked forward, hand gripping the seatrest. "What the hell, Ruben?"
Ruben gestured nervously ahead. "Sir… there's a woman trying to cross. She looks desperate."
Nathan leaned forward, brows arched in fury. "Did I hire you to be a traffic marshal for beggars? Drive, man! I have no time for this nonsense."
"But sir—"
"DRIVE!" Nathan barked. "Or get out and let me do it myself."
Ruben, trembling, pressed the accelerator hesitantly. The woman had already started crossing, overloaded with luggage and boxes balanced on her head. She moved like someone used to being overlooked.
She didn't notice the car inching toward her until it was almost too late.
"STOP!!!" the woman screamed, hands flailing.
Ruben, startled by her shriek, hit the brakes so hard that Nathan's head smacked the seat in front of him.
Nathan cursed under his breath, massaging his forehead. The woman, Vicky, however, wasn't done.
"Are you out of your minds?! You stopped for me and then decided to run me over?!"
Nathan stepped out of the car, straightening his cuff. "I told him to drive. Now get out of the way. You're wasting my time."
"Really?" she snapped, eyes blazing. "And you think that's the right thing to do? You almost killed me!"
Nathan rolled his eyes. "This road was made for cars, sweetheart. If you want to walk freely, get yourself a car. That way, you won't be screaming like a madwoman in the middle of traffic."
Vicky's grip tightened around her basket of fallen goods. "Oh, so now it's my fault I almost died? Let me guess—you bought your license too? Or was it handed to you in a gift basket with your ego?"
Ruben, watching from the front seat, squinted at her. Something about her was familiar.
Nathan gave her a once-over. "Do you even know what a license is?"
"I know enough to recognize someone who clearly doesn't deserve one," she shot back. "Now move, you're blocking the road for actual humans."
Nathan scoffed, reaching into his wallet. He pulled out a wad of notes and flung it at her. "Here. Buy yourself a life. Or soap."
The bills fluttered to the ground.
Vicky stood still. Stunned. Then slowly, her hand lifted, her voice steady.
"Do you think throwing money makes you superior? That this…," she waved a hand at the crumpled notes, "...makes me cheap? This—" she raised the notes, tore them in half, "—means nothing to me."
The ripped pieces floated to the ground at Nathan's feet.
"I'm not poor, sir," she said. "I'm rich—because I still have my dignity. You see, money might buy silence, but it can never buy respect. You can build towers with it, drive fancy cars with it, but the moment you use it to insult someone—you become the beggar."
Nathan stood still. Speechless. This woman… was not like the rest.
Vicky's voice rose for all to hear. "This is a hub. A place where people cross. Next time, learn that your foot on a pedal isn't stronger than the beating of a human heart."
She turned and waved the other pedestrians across, like a queen directing traffic, her back straight, her head high. No fear. No shame. Just fire.
Nathan said nothing. Couldn't say anything. He only watched, jaw tight, mind rattled.
Ruben glanced at him through the rearview mirror, waiting for his next command.
But Nathan just stared after her, something tugging at the corners of his memory… and maybe, just maybe, his conscience.