A Millionaire Demolished My Old House and Came Back on His Knees After Finding His Childhood Photo in the Ruins

A few hours later, I was in the common room pretending to watch TV.

Some home makeover show that I couldn’t stand.

The automatic doors hissed open.

I didn’t look until I heard, “Mr.

Brooke?”

I turned.

Elliot stood there, pale, not polished at all.

He was holding the broken frame like it was evidence.

He walked straight to me and dropped into a crouch in front of my chair.

His expensive coat creased. His eyes were wild.

“Why,” he said, voice shaking, “was this in your house?”

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