“Mommy’s in the trash can!” – The boy’s cry terrified the New York billionaire; when he checked, he immediately called 911

Late on a weekend night, New York City lights up, the skyscrapers shining brightly as if pulling the sky closer. In front of the glass lobby of Kane Group Tower in Midtown Manhattan, Mr. Richard Kane – a self-made real estate billionaire – had just left a long meeting, planning to drive back to his mansion on the Upper East Side to rest.

As he stepped out of the revolving door, he heard a sob. Not the usual whining of a child asking for candy, but a desperate, heart-rending cry. He frowned and looked around and saw a boy about seven years old, his clothes dirty, his face pale from the cold, shivering next to a dark green industrial trash can in the delivery truck driveway behind the building.

Kane was not a person who paid little attention to sidewalks. But the child’s eyes made him stop.
— “What’s wrong? Are you lost?” he asked, his voice low.

The boy looked up, his eyes red, trembling as he said:

“Mom… my mom is in this trash can!”

The words were like a cold slash cutting through the warm air coming from the lobby door. Kane thought the boy was panicking and speaking recklessly, but that desperate look was not what he imagined. He stepped forward, his hands trembling slightly as he lifted the lid of the trash can. A strong stench of trash rushed out, and he was instantly stunned: inside was a woman lying motionless, her face pale, her body bruised, her breathing weak as if she was about to stop.

The boy burst into tears, hugging his arm:

“Uncle, save my mom! Someone beat her and left her here… she’s going to die!”

Without thinking, Kane pulled out his phone and called 911:

“Emergency! In front of Kane Group Tower on East 52nd Street, there is a woman who has been assaulted and left in a dumpster. Critical condition. Please send NYPD and FDNY EMS immediately!”

Less than ten minutes later, an NYPD police car and an FDNY EMS ambulance rushed in, sirens blaring. A curious crowd gathered, chattering excitedly. The medical staff immediately pulled the victim out of the dumpster, quickly examined her, applied a splint, administered IV fluids, and then carried her straight onto a stretcher.

The boy was still holding Kane’s hand tightly, his whole body shaking as if he would collapse if he let go. He bent down and said softly:

“Don’t worry, your mother will be saved. I’m here with you.”

The police came to take his statement. Kane recounted everything he had witnessed. Amidst the sirens and flashing red lights, the boy sobbed and said that a group of men came to his house to collect a debt, beat his mother, and dragged her away. He then ran after them and saw them throw her into this trash can.

Hearing that, Kane felt a lump in his throat. He came from a poor background and had watched his mother struggle as a child, but he never thought he would witness such a heartbreaking scene in the middle of Manhattan.

That night, he did not return home as planned. He followed the ambulance to Bellevue Hospital and sat with the boy waiting outside the emergency room. Time passed slowly, the red light on the operating room door flashing made him occasionally burst into tears.

About three hours later, the doctor came out, took off his mask, and breathed a sigh of relief:

“Luckily we got there in time. The patient was seriously injured but out of danger.”

The boy fell to his knees and burst into tears of gratitude. Kane stood by, feeling light-hearted but still troubled. He realized that there were moments in life that were greater than money: life, motherhood, and humanity.

The next morning, many newspapers published: “Billionaire Richard Kane helps save mother and son abandoned in Midtown dumpster”. The whole city was shaken, both sad and angry at the inhumane crime.

But for Kane, what was deeply imprinted in his memory was not the headline, but the eyes of the boy when he heard the news that his mother was in critical condition: full of hope, wet and sparkling.

From that day on, Kane often visited the hospital to see the mother and son. He paid for the treatment, and worked closely with the NYPD to track down the perpetrators. Gradually, he no longer saw the boy as a child in need of help, but saw his own image as a child – a child who once longed for a protective hand.

Perhaps, the cry “My mother is in the dumpster!” That night not only saved a life, but also awakened the humanity deep in the heart of a billionaire who seemed to have been buried by profit and fame.