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He stood by the door, his boots half-on, his gloves still clenched in his trembling hands.
His shoulders heaved, and tears clung to the corners of his wide, panicked eyes.
He wouldn’t talk at first, but eventually, he told me everything.
“Mr. Dickinson… he said he’s not paying me a single cent.”
The words hung in the air, heavy as a stone.
“What do you mean, he’s not paying you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Ben sniffled, his face crumpling.
“He said it’s a lesson. That I should never accept a job without a contract.” His voice cracked, and the tears spilled over. “Mom, I worked so hard.
I just don’t understand. Why would he do this?”
Anger surged through me, sharp and blinding. What kind of person cheats a child as a “business lesson”?
“Oh, baby,” I murmured. “It’s not your fault. You did everything right.
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