Running back to the bakery a few meters ahead of Sigurd, Jerry sprang through the doors. His joyous demeanor was a far cry from the gloom and doom that pervaded the building's dank air an hour before.

A renewed spark of hope–taking the form of that young boy's joy—illuminated the bakery and filled it with life once more. Freed from the shackles of debt slavery, Jerry and his mother, as well as countless others, could begin to heal.

Sigurd followed closely behind Jerry as he ran to the back room, yelling out for his mother in excitement. Meanwhile, he waited in that same room where the boy had been kneading the dough.

“He did it, he did it!" Sigurd heard Jerry yell from beyond the door. “We're finally free!”

Sigurd then heard a loud thud, followed by cries of joy. He figured she fell to her knees from the shock. After a few minutes, the crying stopped and both Jerry and his mother stepped out from the back.

Emerging alongside Jerry, his mother was not the visage Sigurd expected to see. Her looks did not match her sweet voice. Before him was a bombshell of a woman, and one that both drew a bit of jealousy from Joyce, but also made him think two words.

‘Hot momma!' Sigurd thought, his mouth agape, stupefied by what he was seeing.

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Snapping out of it, he approached the voluptuous and well-endowed widow and her son and held out his hand.

“What's this?" she asked, hand to her cheek in concern.

“This is just a small gesture from me," Sigurd offered them a pouch with coins. “Consider it my thanks in a way, but also a sign of my unwavering support and protection. Know that, as long as I'm around, nothing like this will ever happen to you again.”

“Let me see!" the boy snatched the pouch out of his mother's hand and opened it, pouring the contents out on the floor. The coins spilled forth, the shine of opulence causing the woman to hold her breath.

“How many coins were in there?" she asked.

“One hundred gold coins, ma'am," Sigurd replied.

Jerry's mother’s eyes widened and she blushed, embarrassed, “Oh please, mister Sigurd, we can't possibly take this many coins. It's too much!"

“I insist," Sigurd would not budge. “Like I said, this is my gift to you, as thanks for letting me help. It sounds weird, but I'd feel better knowing you can get back on your feet.”

The woman's knees gave out again, her face flushed, rendered speechless by Sigurd's immense generosity.

“If it's not too much to ask for, there is one thing I'd like some extra assistance with," Sigurd brought up.

“Anything!" Jerry’s mom blurted out.

Sigurd produced the documents he took from the hideout, “I found this list of names, of families that have been similarly impacted by the syndicate's misdeeds. I'd love to go offer a helping hand as well as let them know they’re free too."

“Jerry's better at most things than I am," the boy's mother admitted. “See if you can help, son.”

The boy stood and scanned the names on the papers. Before he finished reading, he said, “You're right, Mister Sigurd. These families are all close by, and we even know most of them.”

He then walked to the door leading out, “Come on, I'll guide you to them!”

Sigurd shrugged his shoulders apologetically at Jerry's mom, and smiled in the same vein, “I'll be borrowing your son again. We'll be back in a bit!”

“Go! Deliver the good news!" she replied as they left. Then, alone in that silent room, surrounded by the golden coins on the floor, she uttered, “What a man…”