Dad of 3 Living in Tent Gives Last Money to Stranger at Gas Station, Gets Huge Reward Next Day — Story of the Day

Despite being homeless and poor, Brandon is quick to offer his last $2 to an elderly man in need at the gas station store. The next morning, Brandon discovers he's been given a company to repay his kindness. He thinks this is the start of a new life for his family, but a powerful enemy wants to take it all away.

Brandon clutched his paper cup filled with change as he shuffled into the gas station store. It had been a slow afternoon begging in the hot sun at the nearby intersection, but he had just enough cash to buy a can of beans for himself and his kids. It would make a good meal once combined with the last of their bread.

"Hey, hurry it up, old man! Some of us have places to be!"

Brandon craned his neck to peer at the front of the store. A queue of restless shoppers was waiting behind an elderly man. He seemed to be having difficulty hearing as he leaned across the counter, the lines on his face pulled into a confused grimace.

"I'm sorry, young lady, what did you say about the water being funny?"

The cashier pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. "Money! I said you don't have enough money, sir!"

"Yes, it was a sunny day." The elderly man frowned at the cashier.

A younger man standing behind the old guy grabbed him by the shoulder and shouted into his ear: "You need more cash! For the water!"

The elderly man recoiled from the younger one's rough treatment. Brandon shook his head in disapproval and grabbed a can of beans from the shelf. He was tempted to step in but didn't want to attract the other shoppers' ire.

"I don't have any more cash," the elderly man said. "Can't you swap this for a smaller bottle of water? I need to take my pills."

"If I had small bottles of water, then they'd be out on the shelves, sir!" The cashier shouted. "If you can't afford to pay then you'll have to go!"

"I can go?" The old man smiled at the cashier and turned to leave. "Thank you, dear, I'll return tomorrow with the rest—"

The cashier lunged across the counter and snatched the water bottle from the man's hand. "Don't you dare! Just get out of here, old man! You're way too much trouble."

"Yeah, get lost, you old fart!" A woman standing in the middle of the queue yelled.

"Please, I need to take my pills!" The old man pleaded.

Brandon had had enough. He ignored the sneers of the other customers as he marched up to the front of the queue. The coins from his cup clinked against the surface as he emptied them onto the counter.

"Have a heart, lady. Here, I'll pay for the old guy's water," he told the cashier.

The woman wrinkled her nose in distaste as she looked Brandon up and down. She then arched her eyebrows at the collection of dimes and quarters on the counter. She quickly counted out the amount.

"Yeah, that'll cover it," she said, taking Brandon's last $2 and ringing up the old man's water. "Now step aside, y'all are holding up the line."

Brandon abandoned his can of beans on the counter as he took the water and offered it to the man with a smile. "Here you go, sir. I got your water for you."

He spoke slowly and clearly, ensuring the man could see his face if he needed to lip-read. It seemed to do the trick as the man smiled and thanked him. They walked out of the store together, but Brandon then headed to his tent, which he'd set up on the bare patch of ground adjacent to the gas station.

"Wait!"

Brandon turned as the old man placed a shaky hand on his shoulder. He frowned at Brandon's tent, where his eldest daughter was helping the two little ones wash up in a bucket.

"Why did you help me when you obviously need the money?" The old man asked.

"Because you needed it too, and nobody else in that store was going to help you, mister," Brandon replied.

"If there's one thing I've learned from being homeless it's that this world only works when people are kind to each other. The good deeds you do will always come back to you."

"But...you had a can of beans that you left on the counter. What are your children going to eat?"

"We have the last of yesterday's bread and there's a good chance I'll find some scraps at that fast food joint across the street," Brandon replied. "We'll get by."

The man nodded, but the frown remained on his face as he walked away. Brandon watched him climb into a gleaming black SUV and drive off. A startled laugh escaped him as he wondered why a man driving a car like that couldn't afford to buy a bottle of water.

Brandon was dividing some cold fries between his three children the following day when a silver sedan pulled up near his tent. He let out a low, appreciative whistle as he eyed the hood ornament and listened to the engine purr. A rugged man in a fancy suit climbed out. Brandon frowned as the man walked toward him.

"Good morning, sir," the man said. "Mr. Grives's last wish was for me to deliver this to you."

Brandon side-eyed the cream-colored envelope the man held out to him. He wiped his hand on his trousers and then took it. There was a letter inside.

Dear sir,

Yesterday, you proved yourself to be a man of good character when you spent your last few dollars on a bottle of water for me. Your kindness and belief in doing good for others have inspired me to repay your goodness with the greatest gift I can give you: my business.

I believe my time in this world is coming to an end. I have recently become apprehensive about leaving my company to my son, as I've come to see that he is a selfish, entitled man with a heart of stone. It would greatly ease my conscience if you inherited the company instead. All I ask is that you ensure my son is taken care of and can continue to live a safe, comfortable life.

However, I must warn you that my son will not readily accept my decision. In fact, he will probably do everything in his power to take control of the business. You will have to be on your guard.

Brandon looked up at the man and waved the letter. "Is this some kind of joke?"

The man shook his head and produced a stack of printed papers and a pen. "Mr. Grives was quite serious. And the moment you sign these papers, it will be official. You'll inherit Mr. Grives's company as well as his estate and other personal assets."

Brandon accepted the paperwork and read through it carefully. He was no stranger to legalese and had managed several small businesses before he fell on hard times. Everything seemed to be above board.

"But I just met the guy yesterday. Now he's dead and he's left everything to me?" Brandon stood and frowned at the man. "How...this all seems to be happening pretty fast."

"Yes, sir, but I assure you these papers have been drawn up by the finest lawyers. Mr. Grives was quite clear in his intent. All we need to do is fill in your name and the lawyers will go ahead with the rest."

Brandon clicked the pen and signed his name. This all seemed like a dream, but regardless, there was no way he could pass up the opportunity to give his kids a better life.

"Excellent." The man took the signed paperwork with a smile. "Now, if you'll all please come with me, I'll take you to your new home."

"Is this really where we're going to live now, Dad?" Brandon's daughter, Kelly, asked.

Brandon didn't reply. He was staring up at the massive, colonial-style mansion at the top of the driveway. A verdant, formal garden surrounded the house, and altogether, the place looked like it came straight out of a movie.

"Can we put our tent up under that tree with the pink flowers?" little Derrick asked.

"We're going to live inside the house, silly. Isn't that right, Dad?" Kelly asked.

Brandon nodded, although he could barely believe it himself. The driver stopped the car at the base of the broad steps leading up to the front door and let them out. Brandon shouldered all his family's meager possessions and led them up the steps.

The moment he pushed the double doors open, Brandon realized something was wrong. An elegant table lay on its side in the middle of the hallway. Both drawers hung out, empty, their contents scattered across the floor. A painting had been impaled on the banister, and a tall closet had been toppled over.

"Wait right here," He ordered his kids as he dumped their stuff on the top step.

He then ran after the car and told the driver to call the cops immediately.

A few hours later, Brandon stood among the slashed sofas and broken furniture in the sitting room, speaking to the cops.

"We've examined the entire perimeter of the house and found no sign of forced entry, sir," the officer said. "This, combined with the fact that the security system appears to have been overridden using the correct code suggests that whoever vandalized this place had a legitimate means of gaining entry."

"Like a key? You're telling me the person who did this just walked in here?"

"I'd suggest you change the locks, sir." The police officer nodded. "Looking at the damage caused here, I'd say whoever did this was looking for something and got very angry when they didn't find it."

Brandon shivered as he glanced at the destruction surrounding him. He was starting to wonder if the old man had any enemies who might now be after him when he remembered a detail from Mr. Grives's letter.

He'd said his son wouldn't accept his decision. Maybe he'd come here looking for the company's paperwork with the intention of claiming it for himself and came up empty-handed.

The old man had said his son was selfish and entitled. Brandon had seen his fair share of such people while begging around town and knew how badly a person like that could treat someone else. He did not doubt that such a man wouldn't hesitate to take his anger out on a few inanimate objects.

Mr. Grives's assistant arrived early the following morning. She took Brandon shopping and got him cleaned up at a barber before taking him to the office. He barely disguised his awe as he stepped into the stylish reception area.

The assistant showed Brandon around the office and introduced him to all the essential employees before leaving him in the large corner office that had belonged to Mr. Grives. He walked up to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the city.

"This is all mine now," he whispered.

He'd hoped that saying it aloud would make this situation seem less dreamlike, but it didn't work. He sighed and went to sit in his luxurious desk chair instead. He'd just decided to check through the files on the computer to start familiarizing himself with his new job when his office door burst open.

"You must be Brandon." A middle-aged man in a dark suit entered the office and shut the door behind him. "I'm Christopher, one of Mr. Grives's former business partners, and I'm here to save you from a whole heap of trouble."

"What sort of trouble?" Brandon asked.

Christopher grinned like a hungry alligator. "The sort of trouble all businesses face when they have a perfectly legal mainstream operation as well as a...shall we say, less salubrious line of business that stays off the books."

"You mean something illegal?" Brandon sat up and frowned.

"Let's just say that I exclusively handled the sales and distribution for a product line that wouldn't necessarily meet FDA standards." Christopher placed his hands on the desk and leaned toward Brandon. "The most recent shipment sold very well and now I'm here to collect payment for my services."

"Uh...I don't believe I'll be requiring your services any longer, Christopher," Brandon said. "I really don't like the sound of this but if you are indeed owed money then you'll need to submit an invoice—"

Christopher beat the table with his fist, cutting Brandon off. "You moron! I tried to do this discreetly, but I guess you're too dumb to get the picture. So, listen up! Grives owed me $2 million for handling the illicit side of his business. You're now responsible for that debt. And if you don't pay up, I'll go to the police and tell them everything."

Christopher stalked around the edge of the desk and perched on the corner closest to Brandon. "Furthermore, as the company's owner, you will be liable for all damages and legal ramifications. So, I'll be expecting my $2 million by Saturday. Or, you can transfer ownership of the entire company to me."

"You can't be serious! This is extortion!"

"Yes, it is. And just in case you think I'm not deadly serious..." Christopher pushed back his suit jacket and placed his hand on the butt of a gun holstered at his side. "...rest assured that if you cross me, Brandon, I'll make you disappear. The police won't even find enough of you to ID the body."

Brandon said nothing. While living on the streets, he'd met many dubious characters and been threatened more than once. He knew when he was faced with a truly dangerous situation, and there was no doubt in his mind that Christopher meant every word.

"So I'll see you on Saturday with the $2 million or the company transfer documents." Christopher slid from the desk and walked toward the door. "If you don't show then I guess nobody will ever see you again."

Once the door shut behind his unwelcome visitor, Brandon immediately started up the computer and searched the various documents and spreadsheets. When his search turned up nothing, he went from office to office, gathering documents under the pretense of familiarizing himself with the business.

Brandon searched for any hints of this illicit side of the business until his eyes burned, and the stars glittered faintly outside his office window. He was beginning to think Christopher was scamming him when he noted the filing cabinet tucked into a corner of the room.

Brandon unlocked the cabinet with the keys he'd found earlier on his desk. The first thing he noticed was an old-fashioned file box tucked into the drawer. Inside it was a ledger with entries written in some kind of shorthand. These corresponded to dollar amounts that made Brandon's eyes pop out of his skull.

"That creepy guy was telling the truth," Brandon muttered.

Brandon sank to the floor in despair. Over the past few days, his life had had more ups and downs than the wildest rollercoaster. It seemed to him like he was the butt of a divine joke. He couldn't handle all of this sober. Brandon opened the closest filing cabinet drawer in search of some liquor.

He'd assumed all bigshot business people had expensive bottles of scotch handy to celebrate signing new deals, but he found nothing except a photo. Brandon instantly recognized the old man he'd bought water for, and then he noticed the man standing beside him.

Side by side, the resemblance was uncanny. The two men had the same straight jaw and hooded eyes. A chill traveled down Brandon's spine. He recognized the younger man in the photo too...it was Christopher!

"That no good son of a snake!" Brandon hurled the photo at the wall, shattering the glass and breaking the frame.

Several things became clear to Brandon at that moment. The first was that the $2 million was just a ruse. Christopher had really come to him hoping to blackmail him into transferring the company. The second was that maybe this was part of the reason Mr. Grives had such a low opinion of his own son.

Brandon couldn't believe that nice old man had been involved in illegal business practices. He wondered if Christopher was playing a more complicated game: using his own shady dealings as leverage to blackmail Brandon. It would certainly fit the old man's description of his son as selfish and entitled.

Early that Saturday morning, Brandon waited in his car in a secluded section of the office building's underground parking lot. His palms were sweaty, and his nerves were on edge. He jumped when the passenger door opened, and Christopher climbed in beside him.

"What have you got for me, Brandon, money or documents?" Christopher asked.

"I have a counteroffer," Brandon replied. "I know who you are now, Christopher. Your father warned me about you in the letter he wrote me asking that I take over the company. But I didn't ask for this, man. I'd be happy to just live a normal life so I'm offering you a deal."

"I've got to keep my word to your old man," Brandon continued, "so I'll give you 49 percent of the company while I keep the remaining 51 percent. That'll be enough for you to live lavishly, right? And I’ll reserve the right to manage the company, like your father wanted."

"49 percent?" Christopher leaned in so close that Brandon felt his breath on his face as he hissed: "You've got some nerve, buddy. This is my company. You met the old man, didn't you? Do you really think he's been anything more than a figurehead these past few years?"

Christopher poked Brandon's shoulder. "I'm the one who's done whatever was necessary to keep this place profitable in this economy." He jabbed Brandon's shoulder again. "I deserve all of it, not some token percentage. We'll speak again when you come to your senses."

Christopher backed off and climbed out of the car, leaving Brandon in a fog of confused thoughts. He couldn't escape the feeling that he was in way over his head and on the verge of drowning.

Brandon was all out of ideas. He went up to his office and ended up staring blankly at the company's account statements for an hour. He'd hoped to pay Christopher his $2 million and be done with this, but all the company's money was tied up in assets or allocated to monthly expenses.

Brandon would gladly have walked away from this mess and returned to the streets, but he couldn't give up his kids' best chance at a bright future. Besides, he felt like he'd made a promise to safeguard the business when he signed those documents and didn't want to go back on his word.

He headed home for a late breakfast with a heavy heart and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When he opened the front door, the first thing he saw was his kids' nanny, Cecile, tied to a chair directly across from the entrance with a gag in her mouth.

"What happened?" Brandon asked as he rushed to Cecile and released her. "Where are the children?"

"He took them!" Cecile sobbed. "A tall man with cruel eyes; he said to tell you that this should be your wake-up call, that he won't stop until he gets what's rightfully his."

Brandon slumped to his knees. He knew exactly who'd taken his children. He took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Christopher's number.

"Are you ready to do the right thing now?" Christopher asked when he answered the call.

"Yes, I'll give you whatever you want, just please don't hurt my children," Brandon sobbed.

"Good," Christopher purred. "I'm going to give you an address. You'll sign documents transferring the company to me and have a courier deliver them to that address. Once I've signed the documents, I'll release your little brats."

"Okay, but I'll need some time to contact a lawyer to draw up the papers. Give me until noon, please?"

"Noon, and not a minute later. I'll be waiting."

Christopher hung up. For a moment, Brandon stared down at his phone screen in shock. Then, he called the police.

Within the next half hour, an FBI agent was at Brandon's doorstep. He introduced himself as Agent Bates and sat down with Brandon in the sitting room.

"We're going to do whatever it takes to get your children back, sir," Agent Bates said. "Now listen closely, please. I need you to follow my instructions precisely..."

Christopher had rented out an entire boutique hotel to wait for that bum, Brandon, to deliver his company. He'd dismissed all the staff except the manager, who he'd paid handsomely for her discretion. Then he'd locked the little brats in a closet and was now drinking by the pool as he counted down the minutes to noon.

The hotel was tiny but upmarket enough to be suitable for a man of his discerning tastes. He glanced at the tasteful decorations outside the three rooms bordering the pool, then checked his watch again.

There were only five minutes left until the deadline.

Christopher threw his glass aside and stood. He stalked along the edge of the pool with a frown and contemplated what he'd do if the bum didn't do as he was told. He glanced down at the water and supposed he could throw one of the brats in and send Brandon a video of the kid drowning. That ought to convince him.

"Excuse me, sir? A courier just delivered this for you."

Christopher turned to the manager with a grin and snatched the thin cardboard folder out of her hands. He tore it open and examined the paperwork inside.

"Perfect!" Christopher strode into the room where he'd placed his things, took a pen from his briefcase, and signed the document. The company was finally his!

He went to the closet and opened it. The bum's three children flinched at the sight of him. He flipped open his pocket knife to frighten them further and couldn't contain his laughter as the smallest one started crying.

"You are three lucky little munchkins," Christopher said as he hauled them out of the closet. "Your daddy loves you enough to get you back home safe."

He cut the ropes he'd tied around their wrists and stood back as the tallest one, a girl, removed the gag from her mouth and then helped free the others. She watched him warily throughout.

"The street is that way." Christopher smiled as he pointed out the door. "I'm sure a bunch of ragamuffins like you three can find your own way. Now, get lost."

Christopher hummed as he packed the documents into his briefcase and prepared to leave. This had been a very successful day. He went over to straighten his tie in the mirror and froze when he heard a click behind him. Although it was very soft, Christopher instantly recognized the sound of a gun's safety selector.

"FBI! Put your hands in the air and get onto your knees! You're under arrest."

Christopher thought about it. An inferno of fury roared through him as he realized the bum had tricked him. He ground his teeth as he slowly knelt and raised his arms over his head.

Meanwhile, Brandon knelt on the sidewalk outside the hotel and held his children in a tight embrace. He'd had his doubts when Agent Bates said the tracking device in the document folder would lead them straight to Christopher and his kids, but everything had worked out according to plan.

"You're okay now," he whispered as he kissed each child's forehead. "That man won't hurt you again, I promise. The police are going to make sure of that."

"You!"

The children flinched at the sound of Christopher's shout and nestled closer to Brandon. He protectively bent his body around them as he looked up and saw Agent Bates leading Christopher out of the hotel.

"I won't lose to you, you bum!" Christopher screamed. "I'll tell the cops everything about the company! You'll be filing for bankruptcy before the month is over! You'll be paying off fines until the day you die!"

Brandon said nothing. He was certain Christopher was petty and spiteful enough to take the whole company down with him. He gathered his children and took them home. Then he went to the office to do one last thing before he gave up the business world for good.

Brandon was ready when Agent Bates returned with Agent Rowland from the FBI's corporate fraud division. Agent Rowland showed him a warrant for the company's records.

"I thought you might want to investigate, and I want to assure you that I intend to cooperate fully. I've prepared everything you'll need."

Brandon went to the table near the front door and lifted a briefcase containing a hard drive with a copy of all the company's records as well as the ledger he'd found with the coded entries.

"It's all in here, agents. I've also contacted a lawyer about starting the process of liquidating the company's assets to cover any fines the business is liable for. He'll be ready to move on that the moment you've concluded your investigation."

The agents thanked Brandon and left with the evidence he'd provided. He sighed and leaned against the front door. He wouldn't have a penny to his name by the time this investigation had run its course, but at least he'd still be free. Although it had hurt him immensely to sacrifice the fortune he got from Mr. Grives, it was the only way he could avoid jail.

As he was pondering his bleak future, Brandon realized he wasn't alone.

"Daddy, is this like when we had to leave our home after Mom died?" Kelly asked softly. "Do we have nothing now?"

Brandon straightened up and turned around. He scanned the room, but it wasn't until Kelly stepped out from behind the staircase that he realized all three of his children had been hiding in the foyer all this time.

"Maybe we can still set our tent up under the pink flower tree?" Derrick asked.

Brandon got down on one knee and beckoned his kids closer. He squeezed his eyes shut as he hugged them tightly.

"Listen, you three, there's a lot of details that still need to be sorted out but we're going to be okay. You want to know why?"

Kelly, Derrick, and his middle child, Sam, all looked at him earnestly and nodded.

"It's because the most valuable thing we have is right here, in my arms. So long as we stick together we'll always be rich in the most important way: love. The wealth of the world comes and goes, kids, but the love we share for each other is a treasure nobody can take away from us."

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