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Russell spiraled further into ruin after Martha’s death. His wife finally left him, taking their daughter Lily with her. She fought for custody of their son Noah, but Russell refused, insisting he stay to “carry on the family name.”
With Martha and his wife gone, there was no one left to cook meals. Russell, being a “man’s man,” refused to do it himself, leaving 10–year–old Noah to fend for himself.
“I’m hungry, Dad,” Noah whimpered one day.
“Figure it out, you brat! Do I look like your personal chef?” Russell snarled, throwing a slap across Noah’s face.
Eventually, Noah learned to use the stove, but one tragic day, he left the gas on and succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning.
When Russell found him, he wailed, holding his lifeless son in his arms. “It’s all my fault! I failed you! And your mother–how could she abandon us like this? She killed you as much as I did!”
Devastated, Russell fell deeper into despair, gambling away what little he had left. Within six months, he was arrested for theft and sent to prison.
The old deli space was eventually rented to a new owner who turned it into a cozy snack shop. As for me, life went back to normal.
If you ask me whether I’d still help someone in need after all this?
The answer is yes.
The answer is yes.
Because karma always comes through. And for every bad apple, there are so many more good ones in this world.
