The man stopped in front of her. His eyes glistened with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

— “Hello. Who is Amara, the owner of this place?”

A heavy silence fell. A plate broke somewhere in the back. Trembling, Amara raised her hand.

— “I am.”

The man let out a long, relieved sigh. Then he said:

— “Thank you for taking in my mother… and for feeding her every day.”

A wave of shock rippled through the street.

— “His mother? Which mother?” people whispered.

Amara, bewildered, stammered:

— “Your mother? Who is your mother?”

Then a small trembling voice rose behind her:

— “Yes… who is your mother?”

Everyone turned toward Mama Hannah. Her hands shook, her eyes filled with tears. The billionaire slowly turned. His gaze met that of the old woma.