“But we are changing some training.”
He nodded.
“And if a hungry person asks for food?”
Coryn hesitated.
“We should have a protocol.”
“Good answer.”
That became policy later.
Manager-authorized emergency meal vouchers.
No public humiliation.
No requirement to perform need.
No filming.
That last part came because of the teenage boy.
He posted the video anyway.
The clip spread for twenty-four hours before people realized who I was.
That created another problem.
By the next morning, reporters were calling it “the billionaire beggar test.”
I hated the phrase.
Maeve hated it more.
“Now everyone thinks Ellie is inheriting your company because she bought you soup.”
“She isn’t.”
“Good.”
Ellie looked disappointed.
“Why not?”
“Because you are eleven.”
“Temporary issue.”
I laughed.
Maeve did too this time.
That mattered.
Over the next three weeks, I learned more about them.
Slowly.
