Part 5
Inside the tiny apartment, Jenna was shivering.
She wore three layers of clothes, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot water just to feel some warmth.
The building's radiator had died two days ago.
The landlord had ignored her calls.
Daisy was still asleep under a mountain of mismatched blankets, her small face pale but peaceful.
When the knock came at the door, Jenna flinched.
Her heart began to race.
Was it the landlord?
Had they decided to evict her early, on Christmas Day?
She walked slowly to the door, her boots clicking softly on the worn linoleum floor.
"Who is it?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"Jenna. It's Nathan."
She froze.
She thought she was dreaming.
Why would a billionaire be standing outside her door in the slums of Boston at eight in the morning on Christmas?
She quickly unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open.
Nathan stood there, his arms full of beautifully wrapped boxes, a smudge of snow on his jacket.
He looked completely out of place against the peeling wallpaper of the hallway.
Yet, he was smiling.
"Merry Christmas," he said.
Jenna just stared at him, her mouth slightly open.
"Nathan? What... what are you doing here? How did you find me?"
"I have a very good assistant," he said smoothly, stepping past her into the room before she could tell him no.
He set the boxes down on the small kitchen table, which took up half the living room.
As soon as he stepped inside, he felt the chill.
It was barely warmer than the street outside.
He could see his own breath.
His jaw tightened, but he kept his voice light as he turned back to her.
"You left something at my house last night."
Jenna looked confused.
"I did? What?"
"Your Christmas spirit," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the tiny space heater he had left by the door outside.
He brought it in, found an outlet, and plugged it in.
Within seconds, a warm, orange glow began to fill the small room.
A soft hum echoed in the quiet apartment.
Jenna looked from the heater to the boxes on the table, and then to Nathan.
Instead of being happy, her face fell.
Her posture stiffened.
"Nathan... I told you last night. We don't take charity."
"It's not charity, Jenna."
"Then what is it?" her voice cracked, raw with emotion.
"You barely know me. You're a billionaire. I'm the woman who cleans your floors."
"You can't just swoop in here like a superhero and throw money at my problems because you felt guilty for one night!"
"I have my pride, Nathan. It's the only thing I have left."
Nathan didn't get angry.
He walked over to her, stopping just a foot away.
He looked into her tired, defensive eyes with absolute sincerity.
"I know all about pride, Jenna," he said softly.
"When I was ten years old, my mother fainted in a grocery store because she hadn't eaten in three days."
"She was saving every penny to buy me a pair of winter boots so my feet wouldn't freeze on the walk to school."
"A man saw us. A stranger. He bought my mother a hot meal and paid for our groceries."
"My mother cried. She didn't want to take it. She told him the same thing you just told me."
Jenna looked at him, her anger faltering.
"What did he say to her?" she whispered.
Nathan smiled sadly.
"He told her, 'Madam, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because when I was a boy, someone did it for me. You're just holding the light for a little while until it's your turn to pass it on.'"
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Nathan pointed toward the bedroom doorway, where Daisy was just waking up, blinking against the new warmth.
"I’m not trying to buy your pride, Jenna. I’m just passing the light back."
