Next was Clara. “You diverted company funds.”
She straightened her back. “I was securing your legacy.”
He nodded slowly. “Or your own.”
Then Margaret. “You bought out your own family behind my back.”
“It’s business,” she said coldly. “You taught me that.”
Finally, he turned to Elsa. “And you?”
She froze. “I didn’t… I only bought you soup, sir. You were sick.”
The room fell silent.
Alexander reached into his coat and pulled out four envelopes. “Each card,” he said, “was connected to an account that reported every transaction to me daily. I didn’t care how you spent the money — I cared why.”
He handed Vanessa, Clara, and Margaret each an envelope. Inside was a termination letter.
When he reached Elsa, he paused. “You’re the only one who didn’t fail the test.”
She blinked, stunned. “But I’m just a maid.”
He smiled. “You’re the only one who remembered I’m human.”
He stood slowly, walked to her, and handed her a small black box. Inside was a key. “This house,” he said, voice trembling, “and everything in it — now belongs to you. You’re the one person who gave without taking.”
Tears filled Elsa’s eyes. “I don’t deserve this.”
“You earned it the moment you chose kindness over greed,” he said.
Outside, the sun was setting behind the mansion, the golden light spilling through the windows. The three other women stood speechless, watching as the maid who once served them became the new owner of everything they had coveted.
That night, Alexander quietly passed away in his sleep — his lips curved into the faintest smile.
And when his will was read, it was Elsa’s name written beside every estate, every company, every fortune. Beneath it, a single line in his handwriting:
“Loyalty isn’t tested by how much you give — but by how little you take.”
Would you still stay kind if no one was watching — or would greed win when the world looked the other way?
