Chapter 5 - An Empty Table at Home
Ten minutes later, the store manager had personally wheeled two pristine shopping carts to Martha’s side, while Arthur politely dismissed the lingering crowd. Shoppers gradually returned to their routines, though the entire supermarket was still abuzz with excited chatter about the unbelievable drama they had just witnessed.
"Artie—I mean, Mr. Sterling—you really don't have to do all this," Martha protested, blushing as Arthur began loading fresh produce, organic vegetables, cartons of real broth, and the finest pantry goods into the carts. "I really only came for some turkey necks or wings to boil a broth for Leo. He’s had a terrible fever for three days, and the doctor said fluids and rest are the only things that will break it."
"Call me Artie, Martha. You earned that right forty years ago," Arthur insisted, gently placing two of the clearance turkeys into her cart, followed by fresh fruit, vitamins, and boxes of high-end herbal teas. "And you aren't paying a single penny for this. In fact, if you allow me, I want to drive you home. A woman of your years shouldn't be walking four blocks in a freezing sleet storm carrying groceries."
Martha hesitated, looking down at her worn boots. "My home isn't... well, it’s not the kind of place a man like you visits, Artie. The radiator in our apartment building has been clanking and leaking for weeks, and the hallway lights are out. Leo is resting on the sofa with three blankets just to keep warm."
Arthur frowned, a sudden sharpness returning to his eyes. "Which building do you live in, Martha?"
"The Elmwood Arms on Tenth Street," she replied quietly. "The rent went up another two hundred dollars last month, but the landlord hasn't fixed the boiler since November. I didn't want to complain too loudly because I was terrified he’d evict us. It’s hard enough raising an eight-year-old on a survivor's pension."
Arthur felt a surge of cold fury rise within him. He turned to Evelyn Reed, who was still standing nearby with her tablet. "Evelyn. Who owns Elmwood Arms?"
Evelyn quickly tapped on her tablet screen, pulling up the property records for the district. Her eyes widened slightly as she read the ownership file. She looked up at Arthur with a grim grimace.
"It’s registered under Apex Living LLC," Evelyn reported reluctantly. "Which is an independent subsidiary portfolio managed directly by... Beatrice. She bought the building using her trust fund dividend two years ago."
Arthur closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh. The rot ran even deeper than he had imagined. His daughter hadn't just been stealing from the foundation; she was operating as a slumlord, gouging the very people she looked down upon, cutting off their heat while she spent their rent checks on designer coats and luxury weekend getaways.
"Load all of this into my car," Arthur ordered the store staff, handing the manager his black titanium credit card. "Charge everything. Add fifty gift cards for five hundred dollars each, and distribute them to the next fifty families who come through your clearance aisle today."
The manager’s eyes shone with tears. "Yes, sir! Immediately, Mr. Sterling!"
Arthur gently took Martha’s arm, guiding her out into the winter air where his warm, heated town car was waiting at the curb. The chauffeur opened the door respectfully, bowing his head as Martha nervously stepped onto the plush leather interior.
As the car glided smoothly through the snowy streets of the town, Arthur stared out the tinted window at the gray, slushy sidewalks. He had spent decades building an empire, believing that leaving immense wealth to his daughter would guarantee her happiness and security. Instead, the unchecked wealth had poisoned her soul, turning her blind to the struggles of everyday humanity.
"Artie?" Martha’s gentle voice pulled him from his dark thoughts. She was sitting with her hands neatly folded on her lap, gazing out at the falling snow. "Don't be too hard on yourself. Children make their own choices once they grow up. You gave her the world; she just forgot what makes the world spin."
"What makes it spin, Martha?" Arthur asked, a faint smile returning to his lips.
"Caring for the person standing right next to you," she said softly. "Nothing more, nothing less."
May you like
Within ten minutes, the sleek black car pulled up in front of Elmwood Arms. The brick building looked decrepit, its fire escapes rusted, and several cracked windows patched with gray duct tape. As Arthur stepped out onto the slushy sidewalk, he could feel the cold radiating from the unheated concrete structure.
He looked up at the darkened windows, his heart aching for the sick little boy shivering inside, and his resolve hardened like iron. Justice had started in the supermarket aisle, but it was far from finished.
