That winter morning, Fifth Avenue was bitterly cold. Wind slipped through my coat and stung my skin as I hurried toward my office. Near the entrance, a woman sat against the marble wall wearing only a thin sweater, her hands trembling in the freezing air while people walked past without looking. I reached into my pockets to offer spare change—but found nothing. As I turned to leave, something stopped me. She had almost nothing, and I had layers. Before I could rethink it, I removed my jacket and handed it to her.

Shocked, she accepted, her cold fingers brushing mine. Then she pressed a rusty coin into my hand. “Keep it,” she said softly. “You’ll know when to use it.” Moments later, my boss saw what happened. Disgusted, he fired me on the spot for “encouraging this.” I walked away jobless, shaken, and clutching the strange coin.

Two difficult weeks followed—applications, rejections, and dwindling savings. Then one morning, a velvet box appeared at my door. Inside was a slot shaped exactly like the coin. Heart pounding, I inserted it. Click. The lid opened to reveal a note: I’m not homeless. I’m a CEO. I test people. Inside was also a job offer—six figures, starting Monday.

When I arrived at the company headquarters, the woman stood there, no longer in worn clothes but in a tailored suit, calm and confident. She smiled. “You gave warmth when you had nothing to gain,” she said. “That’s why you were chosen.” In that moment, I realized losing everything had led me somewhere unexpected. For the first time in weeks, I felt something return—warmth.