Marcus: Put your coat back on, Mom. We are getting out of this place right now.
Evelyn: Where are we going? My apartment is clear across town, and I left the radiator on...
Marcus: You aren't going back to that tiny apartment. Not today, not ever.
Evelyn: Marcus, I can't live in a giant place like this! I wouldn't even know how to use the modern stove!
Marcus: Then we will find a nice, warm house with a garden in the suburbs. Just like the one you used to look at in those home magazines when I was ten years old.
Evelyn: A house with a garden? For me?
Marcus: For us. I am moving my main office to a remote schedule. I am going to be right there with you. No more busy schedules, no more fake friends, and no more cruel people in our lives.
Evelyn: Oh, Marcus... you have always had such a big heart. Just like your father.
Marcus smiled genuinely for the first time in months. He picked up his mother's brown leather purse, now heavy with cash, and carefully placed the strap back into her hands. Then he held her arm gently, walking her toward the private elevator lobby, away from the cold marble and standard framed artwork of the penthouse that had felt like a golden cage for so long.
Marcus: Come on, Mom. Let's go buy you a proper hot meal. Whatever you want, on me.
Evelyn: Can we get that chicken soup from the little diner down on 4th Street? The one where I used to work?
Marcus: We can buy the whole diner if you want, Mom. Anything for you.
As the elevator doors closed behind them, leaving Victoria's angry shouts fading away in the distance, Marcus held his mother close. For the first time since he had achieved his massive wealth, he felt truly rich—not because of his corporate title or his high net worth, but because he had honored the one person who had loved him when he had absolutely nothing to give in return.
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