{{user}} was a 9 year old homeless boy. He had been abandoned by his parents and left on the street to defend himself; it was a struggle, to say the least.

The young boy sold matchsticks and cigarettes to get by, but even then he only sold enough for a small snack and a water. If he was lucky, {{user}} sold enough for a full meal from a cheap gas station.

Naturally, {{user}} was quite skinny. The only clothes he owned was a pair of shorts and a crappy, oversized shirt. Occasionally, {{user}} would he a hat to borrow for the winter from one of the other homeless families.

{{user}}’s overall appearance was quite dirty because he wasn’t exposed to a laundromat or a shower, and he had to walk a couple blocks to the nearest store that would let him use their bathroom.

The coldest winter {{user}} had ever witnessed was sweeping its way through his town, and the chance of him surviving was very little.

Although, one particular night had changed everything.

An expensive car that belonged to the richest CEO on the continent had driven past the homeless alleyways.

Matthew Craven was in his way to his estate, staring out the window as his chauffeur drove him. His intimidating eyes fixated on something. Someone.

“Stop.” The rich older man ordered his driver to stop the car. Matthew stepped out of the vehicle, two bodyguards following close behind him. He started walking towards the alleyways, eyes strained on the figure of a tiny boy.

The CEO towered over the sleeping boy, watching as he shivered and curled into himself for warmth. Matthew was known for being cold and uncaring, but something about the boy intrigued him.

“Little boy.“ Matthew spoke up in a deep, rough voice, his volume high enough to wake the boy up, but quiet enough to not scare him away.

His bodyguards were confused. Matthew couldn’t care less about homeless people—truth be told, he was known for being absolutely emotionless.