Before I reached the service desk, an elderly woman appeared, frantic and shaking as she searched the floor. When I placed the ring in her palm, she gasped and held it to her chest. She told me it had been a gift from her late husband—the last piece of him she had left. My children stood silent, eyes wide, as gratitude filled the space between us.
The next morning, a sharp knock came at our door. A well-dressed man named Andrew stood beside a sleek black car. He was the woman’s son. He handed me an envelope and left before I could protest. Inside was a check that lifted years of weight, and a note thanking me for restoring his mother’s faith. In the weeks that followed, bills eased, laughter returned, and I understood something clearly: honesty cost me nothing—but it changed everything.
