I was heading to close a deal when I saw a man slumped against a building. Tattered coat, tired eyes. Then it hit me—“Mr. Williams?”
He looked up, weak and worn. The man who taught me everything was broken. “Arthur… I’m ashamed you see me like this.”
I asked what happened. He told me how my mother pressured him to change my grades, and when he refused, she ruined his career. Fired, blacklisted, and sick, he ended up on the streets.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Williams,” I whispered.
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
I couldn’t leave him there. “Let me help. You saved me once. I want to do the same for my kids.”
He looked at me, hope flickering. “You want me to tutor them?”
“Yes. They need discipline like you gave me.”
Tears in his eyes, he smiled. “I thought my teaching days were done.”
“Not yet,” I said. “It’s a new beginning.”
As we walked to my car, I knew this was more than a chance to help—it was a chance for both of us to heal.
