I was a ruthless corporate negotiator, yet eleven words from a starving child in my flower bed left me completely paralyzed.

Alexander slid the heavy glass door open once more, stepping back out into the crisp, sunlit air of the penthouse garden. The morning wind ruffled his dark hair, but he no longer felt the cold. His entire focus was locked onto the frail boy standing beside the imported flower beds.

Tommy jumped slightly as he heard the glass door slide open. He instinctively grabbed the handle of his cracked plastic bucket, looking up at Alexander with those wide, fearful hazel eyes, expecting to be told his time was up.

"Mister..." Tommy stammered softly, his voice shivering. "I... I didn't take any more soil. I was just waiting like you said."

Alexander didn't stop a few feet away this time. He walked straight up to Tommy and dropped down onto both knees in the dirt right in front of the boy. He didn't care about his tailored clothes, the black soil staining his pants, or his polished image.

He reached out and took both of Tommy’s freezing, dirt-covered hands into his own broad, warm palms, wrapping his fingers around the child's small knuckles.

"Tommy," Alexander said, his voice deep, warm, and remarkably soft. "Look at me, son."

Tommy looked up into Alexander’s face. For the first time, the boy noticed that the powerful, intimidating man in the white shirt had tears glinting in the corners of his eyes.

"You don't need to steal soil from this garden anymore," Alexander said, his voice thick with emotion. "And you never have to worry about your grandmother, or money, or food ever again."

Tommy tilted his head, confusion swimming in his young eyes. "Why? Are... are you going to help my grandma?"

"I am going to take care of you and your grandma for the rest of your lives," Alexander said gently, squeezing the boy's hands reassuringly. "Your mother... she was a very special person, Tommy. And your father was my brother."