**”‘Please Marry Me,’ Pleads Single Billionaire Mum to Homeless Man – His Shocking Demand in Return Will Leave You Stunned…”**

The drizzle painted Londons streets with a faint sheen as people hurried past, umbrellas up, eyes downbut no one noticed the woman in a beige trouser suit drop to her knees in the middle of the crossing. Her voice quivered.

“Please marry me,” she whispered, holding out a velvet ring box.

The man shed proposed to? He hadnt shaved in weeks, wore a coat held together with duct tape, and slept in an alley just a stones throw from Canary Wharf.

Emily Hart, 36, billionaire CEO of a tech firm and single mother, had it allor so the world thought. Fortune 500 accolades, magazine covers, a penthouse overlooking Hyde Park. But behind the glass walls of her office, she felt like she was suffocating.

Her six-year-old son, Oliver, had gone quiet ever since his father, a renowned surgeon, left them for a younger woman and a new life in Paris. Oliver didnt smile anymore. Not at cartoons, not at puppies, not even at a chocolate fudge cake.

Nothing brought him joy except the scruffy stranger who fed pigeons outside his school.

Emily first noticed him when she was late picking Oliver up. Her usually silent boy pointed across the street and whispered, “Mum, that man talks to the birds like theyre his family.”

Emily brushed it offuntil she saw it herself. The homeless man, maybe in his forties, with warm eyes peeking through layers of grime and beard, lined up crumbs on the ledge, speaking softly to each pigeon like an old friend. Oliver stood beside him, watching with a calm she hadnt seen in months.

From then on, Emily arrived five minutes earlyjust to watch.

One evening, after a brutal board meeting, she found herself walking past the school. He was there, even in the rainhumming to the birds, soaked but still smiling.

She hesitated, then crossed the road.

“Excuse me,” she said softly. He looked up, his gaze sharp despite the dirt. “Im Emily. That boyOliverhe he likes you.”

The man smiled. “I know. He talks to the birds too. They understand things people dont.”

She laughed despite herself. “Can I ask your name?”

“Jonah,” he replied simply.

They talked. For twenty minutes. Then an hour. Emily forgot the meeting. Forgot the rain dripping down her neck. Jonah didnt ask for money. He asked about Oliver, her company, how much she sleptand teased her, gently, about the answer.

He was kind. Clever. Wounded. And unlike any man shed ever met.

Days turned into a week.
Emily brought coffee. Then soup. Then a scarf.
Oliver drew pictures for Jonah, telling his mother, “Hes like a real angel, Mum. But sad.”

On the eighth day, Emily asked a question she hadnt planned:
“What what would it take for you to live again? To have a second chance?”

Jonah looked away. “Someone would have to believe I still matter. That Im not just a ghost people avoid.”

Then he met her eyes.

“And Id want them to mean it. Not pity me. Just choose me.”

**Present The Proposal**

And thats how Emily Hart, the billionaire whod once bought an AI startup before breakfast, ended up on her knees on Oxford Streetsoaked throughholding out a ring to a man who owned nothing.

Jonah looked stunned. Frozen. Not at the cameras already snapping around them, or the crowd gathering with raised eyebrows.

But at *her*.

“Marry you?” he whispered. “Emily, I dont have a name. I dont have a bank account. I live behind a skip. Why me?”

She swallowed. “Because you make my son laugh. Because you made me feel again. Because youre the only one who never wanted anything from mejust to know me.”

Jonah stared at the box in her hand.

Then took a step back.

“Only if you answer one question first.”

She stiffened. “Anything.”

He leaned in slightly, meeting her eye to eye.

“Would you still love me,” he asked, “if you found out I wasnt just some bloke off the street but someone with a past that could wreck everything youve built?”

Emilys eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

Jonah straightened. His voice turned low, rough.

“Because I wasnt always homeless. Once, I had a name the papers whispered in courtrooms.”

**[Next Part Ethan and the Twins]**

Ethan Walker sat silent, staring at the battered red toy car in his hands. The paint was chipped, the wheels stiffyet it was worth more than any luxury he owned.

“No,” he finally said, kneeling before the twins. “I cant take this. It belongs to you two.”

One of the boys, tears in his hazel eyes, whispered, “But we need money for Mums medicine. Please, mister”

Ethans heart clenched.

“Whats your name?” he asked.

“Leo,” said the older one. “And hes Oliver.”

“Your mums name?”

“Charlotte,” Leo replied. “Shes really poorly. The medicine costs too much.”

Ethan studied them. Just six years old. Yet here they were, selling their only toy, alone in the cold.

His voice softened. “Take me to her.”

At first, they hesitated, but something in his tone convinced them. Sniffling, they nodded.

They led him through narrow alleys to a crumbling flat. Up broken stairs, into a tiny room where a woman lay on a sagging sofa, pale and unconscious. The flat was freezing. A thin blanket covered her frail frame.

Ethan immediately pulled out his phone and called his private doctor.
“Send an ambulance to this address. Now. And prep my private wing. I want her there.”

He hung up and knelt beside her. Her breathing was shallow.

The twins watched, wide-eyed.

“Is Mum going to die?” Oliver sobbed.

Ethan turned to them. “No. I promise shell be okay. I wont let anything happen to her.”

Minutes later, paramedics arrived and took Charlotte to hospital. Ethan stayed with the twins, holding their hands as the ambulance raced through the night.

At Walker Memorialthe hospital hed funded years agoCharlotte went straight to intensive care. Ethan covered everything, no questions asked.

For hours, the twins curled up beside him in the waiting room, dozing fitfully. Ethan kept watch, his mind racing.

Who was this woman? And why did something about her feel familiar?

**A Week Later**

Charlotte slowly opened her eyes to sunlight streaming through the windows of a luxurious hospital suite. The last thing she remembered was unbearable pain and her children whispering goodbye.

Now, the pain was gone.

She sat upand gasped.

Leo and Oliver rushed in, followed by a tall man in a sharp suit. Ethan.

“Youre awake,” he said, relief lighting his face. “Thank God.”

Charlotte blinked. “You? What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same,” he said, sitting beside her. “Your boys were trying to sell their only toy for your medicine. I found them outside my shop.”

Charlotte covered her mouth. “No”

“They saved you, Charlotte.”

She shook her head, overwhelmed. “How will I ever repay you?”

“You dont have to,” Ethan said. Then, after a pause, he pulled out an old photo. In it, a younger Ethan and Charlotte smiled, arms around each other at universitybefore hed left her for wealth and ambition.

“I kept this all these years,” he said quietly. “You never told me we had children.”

“I didnt want to disrupt your life,” she replied. “You walked away. I thought youd moved on.”

Ethans eyes welled up. “Are they mine?”

Charlotte nodded.

“Theyre ours.”

Ethan went still.

All this time hed had twins he never knew. And theyd tried to sell their only toy to save the woman hed once loved.

He knelt beside her, taking her hands. “I made a mistake, Charlotte. The biggest of my life. If youll let me I want to make it right. For them. For you. For us.”

Tears streamed down her face.

From the doorway, Leo whispered, “Mum is that man our dad?”

Charlotte smiled. “Yes, love. He is.”

The twins ran to hug Ethan tightly. For the first time in his life, he felt whole.

**Epilogue**

Six months later, Charlotte and the boys moved into Ethans estate. But they didnt just move into a mansionthey moved into a family.

The red toy car, still broken and chipped, sat in a glass case in Ethans office, with a plaque that read:
*”The toy that saved a lifeand gave me a family.”*

Because sometimes, it