A struggling single dad fixed a stranded farmer’s truck, unaware she is a billionaire. What she did next gave him the shock of his life…
A Poor Single Dad Fixed a Stranded Farmer Truck, Unaware She is a Billionaire, Next…
The rain was coming down in sheets, angry, punishing sheets that slapped the ground with a fury that mirrored how Cole was feeling inside. He yanked the zipper up on his soaked hoodie, squinting through the windshield of his rusty old Chevy as the wiper struggled to keep up. Every breath fogged the glass.
Every mile down this muddy backroad felt like one more reminder that he was barely holding life together with chewing gum and prayer. His seven-year-old son, Liam, had fallen asleep in the backseat, clutching a half-eaten PB&J like it was a prize. Cole looked at him in the rearview mirror, heart clenching.
That sandwich had been their last slice of bread this week, and Cole had given his half to his boy. Again, just one more shift at the garage tonight, he told himself. One more evening fixing the engine of a rich man’s Porsche while living on fumes.
Maybe he could ask for an advance, though he hated begging. Maybe. His truck jolted as he slammed the brakes.
In the middle of the road was a beat-up red pickup truck, hood popped, steam rising violently. And beside it, soaked to the bone, was a woman in a flannel shirt, jeans streaked with mud, holding a flashlight and waving her arms. Cole’s instinct kicked in.
He reached for his toolbox from the passenger seat and jumped out into the rain. You okay? He shouted over the downpour. The woman turned, startled.
Her voice cracked but firm. Truck overheated. Battery light came on before it died.
Pop the hood and step back, Cole said, moving with urgency. This storm’s only gonna get worse. She blinked.
You sure? Lady, he said, crouching beneath the hood with expert eyes. I’ve fixed more trucks than I’ve had warm meals this month. She went silent.
Cole didn’t see the expensive boots hidden beneath the mud. He didn’t notice the gold ring tucked under her glove. He didn’t care that her flannel shirt, though wrinkled and soaked, was from a luxury brand.
To him, she was just someone who needed help. And he’d be damned if he let someone freeze to death out here while he still had calloused hands and tools that worked. Thirty minutes passed.
Liam stirred in the backseat, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The woman, who still hadn’t given her name, offered him a granola bar and a soft smile. Cole caught it out of the corner of his eye and felt something twist in his chest.
People didn’t usually offer them anything. You from around here? Cole asked, tightening the last bolt and checking the oil levels. Kind of, she said vaguely.
Inherited some land a few miles out. Was checking on a property. Didn’t expect the engine to give out…
