They were tall, dressed in tailored suits that cost more than Eleanor’s old diner. They moved with a quiet, powerful confidence. Eleanor felt a strange jolt in her chest. She looked at their faces—sharp features, dark eyes, and that unmistakable black hair. She felt like she was seeing ghosts.
The men walked toward her. They didn’t look at the new buildings or the crowd; they only looked at the old woman on the bench. Eleanor gripped her cane, her breath catching. The man in the center stopped a few feet away. He looked at her with an expression of profound, tearful respect.
He whispered her name: “Eleanor.” She looked up, and for a second, the years stripped away. She saw the dusty boy who had asked for a “mistake” sandwich. She realized she wasn’t looking at strangers; she was looking at Matt, Gabe, and Dan. Her eyes filled with tears as she realized they had found their way back.
But her heart, used to disappointment, was wary. The street had become a stage, with people filming on their phones. Matt, Gabe, and Dan stood around her like a phalanx of protectors. Eleanor asked, her voice trembling, who they were now. Matt knelt before her and said they were the boys who never forgot her.
They explained that after they were taken, their pendants had indeed proven their identity. They were the heirs to a massive tech fortune. Their parents’ “accident” had been orchestrated by a corrupt business partner, and they had been hidden away to keep them from their inheritance. They had spent years in the system, but they had stayed together, fueled by the memory of the woman who had stood up for them.
Suddenly, a familiar, grating voice broke the moment. It was Rick Vance, older and graying, but still wearing the same arrogant sneer. He’d seen the commotion and came over to see if there was a buck to be made. He started blathering about how he “always knew” Eleanor was special and tried to shake the men’s hands.
