"Darien… you okay?"
Eliana watched him move boxes, worry in her eyes. She'd never had a brother, but she knew guys often kept things bottled up—acting easygoing on the outside, carrying everything inside. Her dad had been the same when he started his business.
"I'm fine. Really," Darien said with a small smile. "Thanks for asking, though."
Eliana tilted her head. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah… I don't know how to explain it. Everything around me keeps moving, but inside… I feel stuck. Empty. Like the world lost some of its color."
Eliana put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, enough with the gloom. I'm here. I'm your friend. You don't have to carry it all alone."
Darien gave a small, thoughtful smile, then went back to the boxes.
Good thing he bought this truck—the trunk was huge, and folding the rear seats almost doubled the space.
It took a while, but eventually everything was moved.
As the staff started counting supplies, Darien pulled Mr. Reid aside.
"Wanna smoke?" He held out a pack of Marlboro.
"Nah, quit ten years ago," Mr. Reid said with a small smile.
Darien nodded and slipped the pack back in his pocket—he wasn't smoking either, only brought it for the visit.
He glanced around the old orphanage and let out a soft sigh.
"Not much has changed since I was a kid."
Mr. Reid gave a wry smile.
"Yeah… there's only so much we can do. We're pretty out of the way. State subsidies, the occasional donation—mostly used clothes. Things are better than they were: roads fixed, deliveries easier, some couples come by to adopt or drop off supplies. Not much, but it helps."
He didn't sound disappointed. When he'd taken over, the place ran on scraps—few staff, muddy roads, rare donations.
Darien's gaze settled on Eliana laughing with the kids.
"I'll donate a million," he said quietly. "Use it however you need—furniture, teachers, expanding the place. One person can't do it all."
Mr. Reid blinked, surprised.
"A million? Darien… that's a lot. Are you sure? You should be keeping it for yourself."
Darien shook his head, calm.
"It's fine. My business is doing well. A million won't hurt me. I grew up here—this place made me who I am. Now I can give back. It's the least I can do."
He added the note about his company to reassure the dean—money in the bank, no risk.
Mr. Reid was quiet for a beat, then let out a soft sigh.
"Thank you, Darien… this means more than you know. I'll make sure the kids are fed and that your donation really counts."
"Mrs. Danver would've been proud of the man you've become."
He clasped Darien's hand firmly, gratitude plain in his grip.
Darien scanned the yard—kids laughing, eating cake—and felt something he hadn't in a long time: purpose.
When he first heard Ms. Danver had passed, he'd thought about never coming back. Why not stay in Brindlemark, live carefree? She was gone—the only person who mattered.
But now he'd changed his mind.
She was gone, but her legacy remained. This orphanage deserved him helping. If he could, he should.
He had a new goal—make money.
Mr. Reid led him to the living room. Eliana appeared a moment later, tilting her head.
"You look… different. Happier all of a sudden."
Darien scratched his cheek. Maybe he wasn't as good at hiding things as he thought.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Hah, I can read you like a book."
"I'm donating a million to the Hope Welfare Institute," Darien said.
"What? You're happy because you're giving money away?" Eliana blinked, confused.
"Yeah, but only for Hope."
"Then… I'm in too! A million from me, to Hope!"
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🔍Did you know?
- Early orphanages often had very few staff and poor living conditions, but modern reforms have emphasized education, nutrition, and emotional care for children.
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