Victor Langston didn’t believe in luck. He believed in contracts, deadlines, and consequences. At 57, he had built his fortune from the ground up one property, one investment, one eviction at a time. His world was spreadsheets and signatures, not sympathy.
So when his property manager handed him a file labeled Unit 3B—3 Months Delinquent, Victor didn’t hesitate. He slipped the eviction notice into his coat, drove across town in his sleek black Mercedes, and pulled into the cracked driveway of a worn-down townhouse.
The plan was simple: knock, serve the notice, walk away.
He wasn’t expecting the door to open to two little girls in matching blue dresses.
They couldn’t have been older than six or seven. Their eyes were wide, dark, and filled with the kind of fear that made Victor forget the words he had rehearsed.
“Is your mother home?” he asked, voice softening against his will.
The older girl shook her head bravely. “She said she’d be back last week.”The younger one stepped forward, her eyes glistening. “Please don’t take our home. We’re waiting for Mommy. She said… she said Mr. Langston would help us if…..Read Full Story Here……………………
