Harold Kincaid had lived through ninety years—ninety winters and summers, filled with both heartbreaks and triumphs. He was the affluent founder of Kincaid Grocers, the biggest grocery chain in Texas, and was well-known for being a savvy businessman. At ninety, Harold appeared remarkably well for his age: a lean physique, soft hazelnut-colored eyes, and a striking silver sheen in his hair. Despite all those years spent constructing his empire, he had never tied the knot or begun a family. With every passing birthday, that truth started to feel heavier on him.

On a brisk January morning, Harold found himself in his study, cradling a steaming mug of chamomile tea. Even though it was Texas, the weather had a surprisingly cool feel to it. The estate stood as a magnificent reflection of his achievements, with every piece of furniture quietly narrating tales of negotiations and growth. As he looked at the paintings hanging on the wall, it struck him that he had no direct heirs. There is no wife. There are no children. That made him feel unsettled.

He picked up the phone to call his lawyer, Martin Gray, a man who had been his advisor for many years. As soon as Martin picked up, Harold got straight to the point.

“Martin,” he said, making an effort to steady his voice despite the tremors of age. “I’ve been thinking about my will.” I’m in need of an heir. It doesn’t make sense to let my wealth sit idle or be taken by state taxes if I pass away without a strategy.

Martin let out a gentle sigh. “I understand, sir.” This isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned this. Are there any distant relatives you might think about?”

Harold couldn’t help but think back to the tough childhood he had faced, having lost his parents when he was just a toddler. No family members had come forward to take care of him. He grew up in a children’s home and ran away at fifteen to seek employment. One step at a time, he ascended the ladder of success, shaping his own future. No. “I don’t trust any of them,” he replied. “I really don’t feel like leaving everything to charity.” I want it to go to someone who genuinely values the hard work that went into it.

“I get it,” Martin replied. “I need a few days to consider other options.” <text”Let’s get together on Friday to talk about the next steps.”

“Okay,” Harold said. He hung up the phone and reclined in his leather chair, his gaze wandering over the quiet study. Yet, he wasn’t sure Martin could really create a flawless heir out of nothing. Maybe Harold could have benefited from a more personal touch.

He flipped through a notepad, jotting down potential names—old friends, leading store managers—but with every name, a sense of unease washed over him. He had come to realize that those in the business world could often be deceptive, with their apparent kindness merely a facade for their underlying greed. He threw the pad away in exasperation.

The following morning, a fresh idea struck him suddenly, illuminating his thoughts like a spark in the night. He reflected: My grocery chain provides jobs for hundreds—thousands—of individuals. There could be someone in that group who shares the same determination and resilience that I used to possess. The idea swirled around in his head. Yes, perhaps I can uncover my heir among them, much like how some people stumble upon gold in a river—by sifting through the mundane to reveal the remarkable.

Harold chose to disguise himself as a homeless man to put them to the test. If he got recognized, it just wouldn’t work out. He rummaged through a dusty trunk and pulled out a worn coat, deliberately tearing holes in the sleeves and smudging it with charcoal dust. He picked up a worn-out cane at a thrift shop to help him walk and threw on a scruffy fake beard. After one last glance in the mirror, he nodded with satisfaction; no one would suspect he was the famed Harold Kincaid, the affluent grocery magnate.

By mid-morning, he headed to one of his biggest stores, a lively spot famous for its high-end products and affluent customers. The team was proud to serve the city’s elite. Harold slipped through the automatic doors, his shoulders slumped as he tried to blend in and not attract any attention.

Right away, he sensed the unfriendly stares directed at him—customers grimacing in distaste, staff members glaring at his worn-out look. Kendra, a young cashier, was the first to break the silence, her voice dripping with disdain. “Hey there, sir, you can’t hang around here!” “We can’t let beggars come in.”

Harold gave a shy smile, trying to muster his most sorrowful look. “Please, ma’am,” he said softly, “I haven’t eaten in days.” Could I maybe grab some bread? How about a little snack?”

Kendra curled her lip. “This is a premium grocery store, not a place for free meals.” “Leave now, or I’ll have to call security.”

A sharp pang pierced through Harold’s heart. The store he had created to help the community was now rejecting him as if he were nothing of value. He struggled to keep his voice gentle. “I’m not looking to stir things up.” I’m just in the mood for a little something to eat.

But Kendra just let out a snort. “In that case, you might want to look elsewhere.” <text”A person like you should be out on the streets, not here ruining the vibe of the store.”

Harold pushed aside his disappointment and walked down an aisle, hoping that perhaps a manager or a more compassionate person would show up. Yet, at every turn, he encountered resistance. A stylishly dressed woman in line caught sight of him and flinched. “Who brought that in here?”“She snapped at the person behind her.” “He smells terrible!””

A man dressed in a designer suit interjected, “It must be some incompetent staff.” How about we toss him a few coins to send him on his way?

With a steadying breath, Harold lifted his hand softly. “I’m not asking for handouts, sir.” I could really use some help with food, if anyone’s able to assist.

However, the man just turned away, sneering.

A few moments later, a saleswoman named Chloe walked over. “Sir, it’s time for you to go,” she said firmly, motioning for him to head toward the door. “Customers have expressed concerns about your presence.” “I can’t allow you to roam around.”

Harold felt a tightness in his chest. Is this really how the world perceives those who are less fortunate? Did his store staff never learn to show compassion? He began to back away, muttering curses under his breath about how none of these people seemed to have any empathy. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment. Maybe my effort to seek an heir here was a bit foolish.

Suddenly, a commanding voice cut through the air: “Everyone, step back!”Harold spun around, taken aback. A young man with a store administrator’s name badge approached. He appeared to be around twenty-five, sporting an earnest expression and a calm, authoritative presence. “You shouldn’t treat an elderly man like that,” the young man said firmly. “This is Kincaid’s Grocery, not some exclusive club for the elite.”

Kendra frowned. “Ethan, are you for real?” If Mr. Kincaid found a homeless man hanging around, he would be absolutely livid!”

Ethan’s expression turned serious. “I actually have a pretty good understanding of Mr. Kincaid’s principles, more than you might expect.” He would never support cruelty. Alright everyone, let’s head back to our posts. “Go on.” The employees and the angry customers slowly started to leave, some muttering complaints as they went.

Then Ethan turned to Harold, his tone becoming gentler. “I apologize for their behavior, sir.” I’ll grab some groceries for you, no charge. “Come with me.”

Harold blinked, a strange sense of relief washing over him. “Really? You’d actually do that?” What if your boss never finds out?”

Ethan gave a slight, ironic smile. “He may not be aware of all the specifics, but I truly think he would be on board if he were.” Compassion is never in vain, sir. I became a part of this store because I truly admire Mr. Kincaid’s journey—his rise from humble beginnings. That’s the principle I strive to uphold in my life.

Ethan picked up a basket and led Harold down the aisles, choosing bread, canned soup, and a few pieces of fruit along the way. He scanned all the items at the register, covering the cost himself. Harold felt a sharp sting in his eyes, overwhelmed by emotion. He had nearly lost hope in discovering a good person in that place, and yet here stood a brilliant example of kindness.

When they got to the exit, Ethan passed the bag of groceries to Harold. “Here you are, sir.” I genuinely apologize for the way you were treated. “If you ever need anything else, just come and find me again.”

Stopping just by the sliding doors, Harold turned around, his voice shaking. “I appreciate it, my boy.” Why would you take a chance on getting into trouble for someone like me, just an old nobody you don’t even know?”

Ethan gave a slight shrug. “I can relate to your situation at times.” I used to be just one meal away from feeling hungry, you know? When I arrived in this city for the first time, I found myself without any money or a place to call home. A friend of Mr. Kincaid offered me an opportunity, allowing me to make a living. I’ll always remember that.

Harold felt a deep sense of unspoken gratitude swelling within him. He came to understand that he had discovered what he had been seeking. Here was a young man whose heart echoed Harold’s: filled with humility, decency, and a strong sense of purpose. “Thank you,” Harold repeated, stepping back, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You may not fully understand just how significant your gesture truly is.”

With that, Harold walked away, the bag of groceries held tightly against his chest. Hours later, back at his grand estate, he took off the disguise and settled into his favorite armchair, his mind racing with ideas. He thought of Ethan. Is he the true heir?

He reached out to Martin Gray shortly after. “Martin, I’ve come across a candidate.” “We should have a conversation.”

A week later, Harold shared his plan with Martin: to discreetly watch Ethan’s ongoing behavior and confirm whether he truly had the integrity Harold was looking for. In that case, Harold intended to bequeath the entire Kincaid estate to him. Martin, being careful, decided to lend a hand with the legal matters.

For months, Harold had been sneaking into the store, donning different disguises to observe how Ethan interacted with both customers and staff. Ethan consistently showed fairness and empathy to everyone around him. Little did he know that among those seemingly “shabby” patrons was the store’s founder, quietly observing acts of small kindness unfold every day. With every encounter, Harold found his confidence in Ethan blossoming.

During that time, Harold learned more about Ethan’s background. He used to be a college student, but he had to leave school to take care of his sick mother, and in the end, he lost her to cancer. Struggling with debt, he searched for low-paying jobs until he found a position at Kincaid’s Grocery, which allowed him to maintain a modest apartment. Even with his own challenges, Ethan dedicated his weekends to volunteering at a local food bank. Harold felt a strong sense of purpose as he realized this was the very spirit he wanted to nurture.

Then the day arrived when Harold’s delicate health finally gave way. At ninety-one, he battled pneumonia and ended up in the ICU, struggling for each breath, pain shooting with every inhale. Knowing that time was running out, he called for Martin Gray. As he lay on his deathbed, he signed the will that designated Ethan as the only beneficiary of his wealth—shares in Kincaid’s Grocery, real estate assets, and a significant bank account—accompanied by a letter detailing the reasons behind his choice.

When Harold passed away, the headlines read: “Founder of Kincaid’s Grocery Dies at Ninety-One.” However, it wasn’t just the news of his passing that caught everyone’s attention; it was the surprising revelation that came next: The true heir to Kincaid’s fortune was a modest store administrator named Ethan. There was a buzz among the employees: Surely, there must be some kind of mistake. Did the man really have no living relatives? Have you considered making a donation to charity? What’s the reason for choosing a random staff member?

Ethan was completely taken aback. Martin Gray called him, asking him to come to the lawyer’s office. “You really need to check this out,” Martin said, his tone mysterious. Ethan arrived, his hands trembling, wondering if he might receive a small token from Harold. Martin set a sealed envelope down in front of him, clearly marked “To Ethan, From Harold Kincaid.”